


Lost and Found (My Way Back to You)

by lilacSkye



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Akira is hopelessly smitten, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Identity Issues, Let Sakamoto Ryuji Say Fuck, M/M, Memory Loss, Multi, No P5R spoilers, Post Shido's Palace, Ryuji's bi awakening, Slow Burn, for the second time, implied Ann/Shiho, insecure ryuji, let these two be happy for once, morgana is morgana, not for long, reconnecting, selfless Akira, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24962584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacSkye/pseuds/lilacSkye
Summary: They were happy, as far as two teenagers who had just found themselves and a place to belong together could be. Then Ryuji loses his memory while escaping Shido's collapsing palace, and Akira is forced to realize our experiences and actions are what really define us as individuals. And if those same experiences were to disappear, what would be left behind?Akira wonders that as he watches, powerless, a person he doesn't really know walk around in his boyfriend's body, talk in his voice. Ryuji just want this cruel joke to end already.
Relationships: Kurusu Akira & Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira & Takamaki Ann, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Persona 5 Protagonist/Sakamoto Ryuji, Sakamoto Ryuji & Takamaki Ann
Comments: 72
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, y'all! I'm Skye, and I've recently gotten in the Persona fandom, and ofc the inspiration that has been escaping me for months had to strike again here. Hope you don't mind me and that you'll forgive me for the many inaccuracies I'll probably sneak in, I'm still new to the franchise TwT
> 
> Also, extremly lame summary and title lmao I'm the worst at synopsis
> 
> Hope you enjoy

"I got this."

Ryuji didn't know what possessed him in that moment, for him to spout bullshit like that. He'd never really 'got' anything at all his whole life, and even his utility in the Phantom Thieves had quickly run out his course once strategic assets like Queen and Oracle had joined the group. Sakamoto Ryuji, failed athlete and local delinquent, actually accomplishing something useful? That was preposterous.

But still, _still_. He couldn't let it end like this. Not for himself, mind you. At the moment, his own safety was - for some unfathomable reason - the very last thought on his mind, and the latter was unusually stuffed. Thoughts of his friends, or Oracle screaming that she couldn't swing, of Panther crying, of Queen gasping in defeat…

Thoughts of _him_ , racking his brain to find a way out for them no matter the cost, even after all the shit he had to suffer through to cover their asses, after the sheer _torture_ he was inflicted while Ryuji was leisurely strolling around, looking wistfully at a past he had long stopped being part of, at a reflection is a glass that didn't belong there anymore.

Hell no. He wouldn't let Joker take _another_ hit for the team. This was _his_ fight, and Ryuji would be damned if he let Joker kick the bucket here to save them all.

He asked once, back in the real world, how he did it. How Akira managed to be so hypercompetent in everything he set his mind to do, both in the Metaverse and out of it. Akira had smiled - one of his enigmatic Mona Lisa smiles that made Yusuke stare enraptured and Ryuji's hair stand on end, and he didn't know if he wanted to punch him or kiss him - and poured him a cup of coffee, knowing fully well Ryuji hated the bitter taste.

"Where there's a will, there's a way, they say."

Ryuji had hated that vague answer, and no matter how hard and obnoxiously he tried to pry off Akira's secret to this overwhelming success, the other boy would just smile and effortlessly steer the conversation to safer waters.

One thing that stuck to him, thinking back about it, was that Akira's coffee tasted heavenly.

And now, as this damned ship crumbled and sank and his friends were at their wit's end when faced with an impossible slope to race, Ryuji understood.

He would do it. Because he wanted to. Because knowing he did something good for someone he cared about made him feel good about himself.

So when the words came out of his mouth, he knew they were true. He _got_ this.

Gloved fingers brushed against his own, light as a feather and quick as a shadow, sending a spark of pure lightning down his spine. Unreadable silver eyes peered through deep dark circles and bore in Ryuji's, pinning him to the spot.

There was a moment of charged silence.

"You _will_ come back to me. Understood?"

A grin pulled at Ryuji's lips. Of course Akira wouldn't try to stop him, no matter how dangerous the plan was. Of course he, of all people, would understand. Of course he would _will_ Ryuji to come out of it alive, cause where there's a will there's a way, and Akira had a knack to get his way with things.

So he ran. Ran until his legs were on fire and his nerves were lightning. It was physically impossible, there was no way a normal person would be able to run at a nearly ninety degrees angle. It defied all logic, all physic. He was supposed to slip and fall into the murky waters beneath him from the very start.

He ran and ran. Screw logic, screw physic, screw his bad leg. He ran because he could. Because where there things that were simply more important than a career crushing injury, than an uphill battle against the clock.

He could hear his friend's cheering screams, and for a moment he thought he was back on the the field, only the goal post in his mind and with the crowd cheering for him loudly to the side. Except - and he hated himself so much for it - this was simply a thousand times better.

Heated wind hit his face, but instead of feeling like a slap, like a blow like the ones his damned old man loved to barrage on him, it felt like a caress, soothing, warm, energizing. Like the air was actively parting in front of him, making breathing a little easier. A caress and a whisper in his ear.

_"You will come back to me."_

Ah, of course. Trust him to meddle in things he has no business with, the show off. Really, that worrywart needed to stop getting involved so damn much if he cared for his own health. Let the others take care of this.

He _got_ this, effin' dammit.

He leapt, gravity be damned. He flew, and the lifeboat fell to the water. He watched his friends clamber on it. It was a little crammed, but he supposed they couldn't really afford to be too picky right now.

He _actually_ got this.

His arms were starting to feel tired, the leather of his gloves started sliding off. He probably should have joined Akira in his pull ups sessions in the attic.

"Hang on!!"

Ah, well, if that's an order of the Leader himself, there was just no way he could say no, was it? He laughed and flashed a thumbs up.

A big mistake, when hanging on to a lever for dear life.

All of a sudden, everything was heat and pain. Something blowed up nearby, and a wave of fire and wind engulfed him. The leather of his costume burned and melt through his skin.

The lever broke with a sickening snap. He felt gravity's hand triumphantly curl around his ribcage, and _pull_.

As he plummeted down, followed closely by heavy steel beams, Ryuji didn't really think.

He simply clutched the useless lever in his hands and hung on.

* * *

Ann's bloodcurdling scream was still ringing in Akira's ears by the time the darkness enshrouding his vision faded and the concrete of the pavement impacted painfully against his still bruised ribs. He gasped as pain surged up in powerful shockwaves, cutting his breath short, but before he knew it he was back on his feet, towering over his still prone friends and counting furiously and _where the hell was Ryuji_.

"Ah… we-we're back…"

There was no joy in Ann's voice as she spoke. Her eyes were wide in terror, tears pooling at the corner of her eyes as she too jumped to her feet with catlike agility, looking around frenetically.

"Ryuji!!"

"He… he didn't make it out…"

"We have to go back!!" Futaba whined weakly as Makoto kindly helped her pull herself up. "We must…"

"That's impossible. Shido's palace doesn't exist anymore." Morgana explained, his tail hanging low and dejected. "Along all there was in it."

The silence that followed those words was deafening. Another explosion, just as devastating, crushing all that dared to stand in its way. And no boisterous Ryuji to skillfully diffuse it with a cheap joke and an carefree laugh.

"Ha, ha… this isn't funny at all…"

He couldn't _take it_ anymore. He couldn't just stand idle and _accept_ that… that…

He had promised. He had willed it. Where there's a will there's a way.

"I'll go look for him."

He didn't wait for their reactions; he spun on his heels and broke in a sprint, uncaring of the surprised noises and attempts to call him back. He ran, the concrete flying beneath him, his legs screaming for some mercy Akira wasn't willing to concede. He was only vaguely aware of where he was going, too busy running to think properly. There was a park nearby, perhaps he could try there, if nothing better came to mind.

It didn't take long for his legs to start feeling numb from the extertion. He knew his form was all over the place, and that he was committing all the rookie mistakes Ryuji had told him about the first time they trained together, as he warned him against wasteful movements and preserving energy for the last stretch.

He was going about this all wrong, and perhaps he was hoping it would be enough to make Ryuji magically pop out of thin air just to chide him and playfully make fun of him while showing him the correct technique to follow.

The park was dark and empty. Not a place a lone student would like to be seen at - even less while in a clear state of distress - unless they _wanted_ to catch the attention of the occasional policeman patrolling the area. Akira definitely didn't need the attention, considering his current wanted status, but it was no surprise to find out he didn't care one bit.

He just _ran_.

Until his foot hit and tangled with some log and he once again tumbled down, the ground rising up to meet him at an alarming speed until he fell face first in the grass, his glasses skidding off his nose on impact. He hissed in pain - damned cracked ribs, taking this long to heal - and gingerly rolled to his side, squinting in the dark to make out the shape of the traitorous log that swept him off his feet.

It didn't really _look_ like a log, though…

Heart suddenly leaping in his throat, he clumsily hurried to take out his phone from his pants pocket, his fingers clumsy and numb and fumbling with the buttons. He almost dropped in his haste to get his way to the flashlight app.

And he nearly dropped it again when the bright beam of light fell upon what was unmistakably a leg peeking out of a thick bush on the side of the gravel path, a leg wearing peculiarly checkered pants and a familiar sporty sneaker.

"Oh my god, Ryuji!"

He couldn't feel his legs anymore, bones and muscles and nerves seemingly having melted in a puddle of jelly during the few moments of stillness they were granted, so he crawled, slowly and weakly and undignified, but who cared about that, when Ryuji was in a much worse position.

He grit his teeth, cold sweat drenching his hair and face, and pushed on.

"Hang in there."

It was with a trembling hand that he disentangled Ryuji and brushed off the mess of foliage and twigs covering him, as gently and carefully as he possibly could as to avoid any unnecessary jostling. Still, he didn't like how limply Ryuji's head lolled about when Akira moved him just a bit too harshly. It was as though… as though…

Akira's throat seized painfully, an invisible noose tightened its grip around his neck. Breathing was torture, the little air he managed to pull in his lungs feeling like fire and tasting like ash.

"Ryuji, please…"

His hand shivered visibly as he placed it against Ryuji's neck. For an endless moment, nothing happened.

Then a beat, faint and light like the first droplets of the summer rain. A flutter of butterfly wings struggling to break free from the cocoon.

A beat, and then another and another and another.

Relief hit Akira squarely in the chest with the force of a freight train launched at top speed and sent his mind flying. He felt dizzy, drunk of joy as he fumbled with Ryuji's shirt, pushed away the jacket and pressed his ear against his chest.

Thump, thump, breathe, thump, thump. He drank in, enraptured, every little sound, every little piece of proof that Ryuji was indeed here and wonderfully, _majestically alive_.

He was mildly aware that it was indeed a very curious, if not suspicious, position he was in when he heard footsteps rapidly approaching. The soft sobs and shallow puffs of air quickly soothed his worries. He slowly, almost reluctantly pulled himself up to a kneeling position - though he kept a hand on Ryuji's shoulder, just to ascertain that it was indeed real, Ryuji was here and alive and he wasn't going to disappear in a burst of dark confetti the moment Akira looked away - and plastered a cool reassuring smile on his face, just in time to welcome a very flushed and very much crying Ann.

"Akira! Are you hurt?"

Wordlessly, as he still didn't trust his voice not to come out in a broken mess as he was feeling inside, he pointed his phone at the motionless form laying by the side. Ann gasped, so loud that it echoed eerily in the otherwise empty park. Her eyes were wide as saucers.

"Ryuji…" she fell to her knees beside Akira, unbothered by the dirt sticking to her fancy leggings. "Is… Is he-"

"He's alive."

It finally, truly hit Akira as he said it out loud. Alive. Ryuji was alive. Shido had gone down, and they all had got out of there with their lives despite the odds. It was enough to squeeze the air out of his abused lungs.

"He's alive. We're alive." He repeated, head hanging low, savoring the taste of freedom on the tip of the tongue, sweet and spicy and delicious even if he was coming undone at the seams and his field of vision was growing suspiciously more blurred by the second. Something warm wrapped itself around his waist, and he looked up to see Ann staring right at him, her eyes blazing with passion and conviction beneath the watery shimmer. Silently, she tugged at him, and he let her pull him in the tightest hug he'd ever experienced.

He all but fell into her, crumbled to pieces, every mask dropping to the ground, useless and discarded, and every Persona shattered until there was nothing left but a seventeen year old boy who was forced to grow up too quick to avoid being crushed like a bug by the wheel of fate. He fell into pieces in her arms as he sank his face into her collarbone and held her close and _cried_. And she cried with him as she held onto him for dear life, one arm around Akira’s waist and other clutching on Ryuji’s arm. seeking desperately something to keep themselves grounded to reality.

They didn’t know how long they stayed like that, seeking comfort from each other’s warmth and solid presence. Perhaps a moment, perhaps an aeon, there was no telling. Time had stopped feeling real a long time ago.

What they knew was that all of a sudden there was movement, a shuffling sound and a pained groan. Then warm and groggy hazelnut eyes fluttered open.

“Huh… what?”

“Ryuji!!” Ann jumped up, instantly rounding on him and grabbing him by the shoulders. “You goddamned idiot! Do you know how scared we were, huh?! Did you?!”

Ryuji squinted and grimaces - to good reason, since Ann’s tone had started to increase to dangerous levels really quickly. It had to be painful to hear first thing after awakening.

“I… wha- Ta...Takamaki?”

“Oh don’t you _dare_ ‘Takamaki’ me, now, Ryuji!” She shrieked, and Akira wondered briefly how long it would take for her to hit supersonic levels. A few minutes, give or take, and only bats would be able to hear her. “You nearly fucking _died_ on us back there!!”

Ryuji’s brow furrowed together. “Ha-Hang on, I did _what_ now?”

“Don’t play dumb!! Akira, you tell him off too!!”

Two pairs of eyes bore holes into Akira; two very watery and fierce blue ones, and two warm brown ones that were barely holding down the panic and confusion. Both were asking something of him, some form of reassurance, but different forms of it. Ann was purposeful, determined, aware of the situation. Ryuji… wasn’t. His eyes were wide in utter confusion, and he kept glancing from Ann to Akira and the other way around, as though expecting either of the two to drop the act already and yell “April Fools!” or something. He looked like a puppy that had just been bamboozled by a vanishing marble under a plastic cup.

He… had a bad feeling about this.

“You did.” He said, as composed as he could muster up to be while perfectly aware of the dull, throbbing pain behind his eyes and the ugly wet streaks riding down his cheeks. “We were afraid… we had lost you.”

Their gazes met, and for a moment the world seemed to still. Only the two of them, and a thousand of confessions still unsaid, sealed in a thousand more touches to be shared from this moment on.

But it lasted only for a moment. Ryuji’s eyes dropped to the ground, as though disappointed in what he’d seen in Akira’s. Ashamed.

“Oh… I’m sorry, then.”

It felt like Ryuji had just driven a knife right through Akira’s chest and was slowly taking it out, all the while twisting and turning it in the wound. Still, Akira was nothing but great at acting as though he could not be hurt by words alone. He could act his way out of this just as well.

He briefly wonders if this is the first time he had ever worn a persona around Ryuji. It might be.

“It’s okay now,” he lied, so smooth that he could almost convince himself that it was true. “What matters is that you’re safe now.”

“Oh come on!” Ann huffed, “That’s all you have to say? For real?”

No, of course there were many more things he’d like to say, to do even. But an empty park at night was not the right place for that, and the slightly vacant stare on Ryuji’s face suggested it wasn’t really the time either. That would have to do for now.

“We need to get moving before we catch someone’s attention,” he turned to Ryuji, “Can you stand?”

It was painful to watch Ryuji struggle to pull himself to a sitting position, even with Akira and Ann’s support on each side, and even more so when it was clear his legs held no strength to keep him upright. Each time he tried to take a step his knees would give out, and a pained curse would escape his lips.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Akira lied again, yet for another reason, wearing another mask. Stronger, reliable. “We can carry you to Leblanc.”

“No way. I can’t-”

“Can it, Ryuji.” Ann was quick to shut him down, already slinging one of his arms around her shoulders, just as Akira did the same on Ryuji’s other side. “We’re a team. Let us help you.”

It was undeniably awkward, to say the least, like running a three legged race without the running pace. It was soon clear Ryuji could not place his foot down without experiencing immense pain, and he would fall at any given moment were it not for Akira and Ann taking his weight over themselves. They had to coordinate, with Ryuji being so weak and unable to stand on his own, and the sharp height difference between Ann and the two boys that threatened to topple Ryuji down everytime Akira’s step was a tad too long for Ann to follow.

At last, they made their way out of the park, where a group of people was lying in wait. One of them spotted the awkward crab trio, and immediately called for them.

"There! It's them!!"

An instant later, the rest of the Thieves were swarming them.

"Ryuji!!"

"Oh my god you made it!"

"I'm so glad you're safe, Ryuji-kun!"

"How dare you make Lady Ann worry, you uncouth barbarian?"

"Hey, hey, hands to yourself," Ryuji grumbled when Futaba tried to hug him and punch at the same time, almost making him fall in a heap, pulling Akira and Ann down with him.

Makoto's eyebrows pinched up in concern. "We were worried beyond ourselves! You almost-"

"I almost died, yeah, yeah, I know that."

There was something awfully casual, almost dismissive, in his tone. For some reason, it made his hair stand on end.

His eyes met Makoto's, and from the way she had frozen up he wasn't the only one to have caught on Ryuji's strange behavior.

"Yeah, you did. We were terrified."

"Don't you dare pull a stunt like that ever again, you dummy! Gimme back the hour I spent mourning you!!" Futaba cried out, her eyes still puffy and cheeks painted a violent scarlet from all the crying she must have gone through.

"Even Mona-chan was very sad when it seemed like you hadn't made it out. His ears were all droopy."

"I never did such a thing!! Don't put words into my mouth, Haru!!"

"It was a truly magnificent sight. The pinnacle of friendship, how far a man's dedication and love could go… truly inspiring." Yusuke rambled on, "And yet so eerie and overwhelming at the same time. I don't care to repeat the experience, personally speaking."

It was cute, Akira thought, to see how everyone was trying their best to show Ryuji their support, and he would have smiled, if only he hadn't noticed his friend wasn't really listening to any of it; he was still staring down, glaring at his own legs as though they had offended him on a personal level, hearing none of the welcoming words of his teammates. His left leg was twitching slightly, as it always did when Ryuji was distraught or frankly upset.

A strange weight, heavy and oppressive, settled at the pit of his stomach. Something was clearly wrong with Ryuji, but for the life of him Akira couldn't pinpoint what.

"You guys go ahead," he said instead, when it was clear the cheering crowding was doing Ryuji no favors. "We'll meet up at Leblanc."

There was a moment of startled uncertainty in which the other thieves looked at each other, puzzled that their leader would order them to split up so soon after nearly losing a member. He could understand them. He didn't necessarily _want_ to have everyone go their separate ways, but the situation being what it was, it was crystal clear carrying Ryuji all the way to the bar was going to take a long time, and if there was one thing he wanted to avoid was to make him feel like he was slowing everyone down.

Makoto, bless her sharp perceiving skills, so similar to her sister's, nodded. "Understood. We'd catch way too much attention if we were to go together. Perhaps we should follow different routes as well, to divert all suspicion."

Were he not struggling to keep his balance and Ryuji's at the same time, he would have hugged Makoto. The others visibly relaxed, easily convinced by Makoto's off the fly explanation, which made Akira thank all heavens that she was on their side, not for the first time and surely not the last.

"Then it's settled." Yusuke piped up, "Ann, I can take your place, if you want. You look tired."

Ann did indeed look fairly disheveled; her face was still flushed bright red, from both the physical strain and all the crying she had gone through during the day, and her hair was a complete mess, sticking out haphazardly in every direction. Still, her expression hardened and the arm she kept around Ryuji's waist wound even tighter.

"Thanks, but I'll be fine. I need to make personally sure this dumbass doesn't dive head first into trouble _again_."

"Oh, Lady Ann~ Such a caring soul. You'd better be grateful she even wants to stick to you, Ryuji! You lucky bastard!"

Ann threw him a sidelong glance, perhaps expecting a joking retort or something. Ryuji merely ignored her. The only indication he even heard Morgana's ribbing was the growing intensity of his glare. If he kept it up, he'd soon be able to carve a hole in the concrete.

Something was very, _very_ wrong.

"Okay, then, we shall go first." Makoto bravely attempted to diffuse the situation. "Come on, guys, let's get moving. Morgana, 

Akira watched them go, unusually quiet and , their silhouettes becoming smaller and smaller until they disappeared behind a corner.

"Come on, we should get going too."

The walk was hellishly slow, needing to stop every so often to avoid causing Ryuji's strangely dysfunctional legs excessive pain. Akira soon found himself drenched in sweat and gritting his teeth, now that the adrenaline rush was subsiding and all the abuse his body had been subjected in recent times came to light. Still, he didn't complain once, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't find Ryuji's weight, solid and real, a comforting feel in the slightest. He knew similar thoughts were swirling in Ann's mind, as her breath grew heavier but her step never faltered.

Admittedly, it was a relief when they settled Ryuji on an empty seat on the train, Akira and Ann collapsing at his sides, utterly wiped out. They were lucky they had taken so long that rush hour had long passed over, and the train car was mostly empty. The few unlucky saps that were coming home so late in the evening didn't even have the strength to cast them a disapproving glare. Fine by Akira, honestly. The least attention they drew to himself, the better.

"Hey," Ann broke the silence after a while, after they made their way out of the station. "Are you alright? You've been awfully quiet the whole time."

"Hm?" Ryuji shook his head, as though caught off guard. "Wha- for real?"

"Yeah! Not that it's a bad thing, mind you, it's just…"

"It's not like you." Akira finished for her. He noticed how Ryuji's eyes carefully avoided meeting his own, lingering instead on a spot around his left ear. "Usually, it's hard to get you to shut up for three seconds straight."

Ann chuckled, and even Ryuji flashed a ghost of a smile that died well before reaching his eyes. "I've got a motormouth, right?"

"You can say that again, you dumbass."

At last, they turned the last corner, and there Leblanc was. Just a last stretch before they could finally put Ryuji to rest in Akira's bed and get comfortable after the successful heist. At last, they were free.

Ryuji stopped. The sudden shift of balance nearly tripped Ann, and Akira had only his quick reflexes to thank for avoiding falling face first on pavement.

"Guys… I'm sorry."

He sounded genuine, as though he had something to truly feel guilty of. Broken. Ashamed.

"It's fine, we don't mind. All that matter is that you're safe."

"No, man, you don't understand!" Ryuji shook violently, and even dared to try and step back, away from Akira and Ann. He would have fallen down right on his ass if they hadn't kept him upright despite his protests. "I-I…"

This time Ryuji _did_ look into Akira's eyes, and Akira felt like someone just Megidolaoned him in the face. His eyebrows were pinched up, his eyes blown wide and tearful, as though he was inches away from having a breakdown. Akira tried to pull him in closer, but Ryuji kept trying to wiggle away from him.

"God… damnit. I can't-"

"It-It's okay Ryuji!!" Ann panicked. "We're almost there! You can rest at the bar!"

"But-"

"No buts." Akira took the reins of the situation and nearly hauled Ryuji on his back. "I'm willing to carry you bridal style if I have to."

That managed to do the trick; Ryuji spluttered, adorable crimson splotches blooming over his cheeks and quickly turning him into a human sized lobster. It was way too easy to tease him.

"Oh, man, that's so _not_ cool."

"Then it's settled. Off we go."

Akira nearly dragged him all the way to Leblanc, and though outwardly he made sure to look self assured and unperturbed, the truth is Ryuji's outburst had left him quite unsettled. It had been a wild reaction, desperate even, like a cornered animal with no way out. And when their eyes met, _gods_ , again there was that feeling of something missing, and Ryuji knew it, and was trying to warn him somehow…

Ann opened the door to Leblanc.

"Heyyy, we made it… What the hell happened here?!?"

Indeed, the usually tidy bar had been undeniably thrashed while they were absent. Dishes and glasses lay strewn across the floor, the pointy shards glinting ominously like blades in the warm light of the light ahead; the seats and tables had been overturned, though the rest of the Thieves were already about and putting them back proper; even Sojiro's precious beans and other ingredients were not spared the brutal treatment as they laid on the counter and the floor;Akira's heart broke a little when he saw Sojiro's trusty coffee maker had not survived the massacre.

"Oh, it's you guys," Sojiro welcomed them coolly, looking up and resting the broom against the counter. "Took you a while. I was starting to get worried."

"Forget about us! Whatever happened in here?"

Sojiro shrugged. "I got taken in for interrogation by Shido's men. I'm fine, don't worry," He hurried to add when he saw Ann and Akira blanch in terror. "Then, just as suddenly, I was sent back home. I guess that was you guys' doing huh? But man, they really did a number on this place."

"I'll help you out." Akira said, a quiet sense of fury mounting up at the sight of the utter disaster those monkeys had left at Sojiro's beloved place. "Just give me the time to settle Ryuji to bed and I'll join you."

"Hey, I wanna help too."

"We've got this covered," Makoto intervened from an obscure spot behind the counter. "You guys go get some rest!"

"You heard the lady, guys." Sojiro grinned. "Off to bed, now."

Ryuji looked about to protest, but Akira and Ann had him firmly in their grasp, and he could do nothing but whine in displeasure as the two bodily dragged him away, all the way up through the stairs leading to the attic.

Only when Ryuji was finally laid on Akira's bed, Akira felt he could finally breathe again. They did all they could, grabbed the treasure, he even got his personal revenge, and they were all safe. Despite the emotional rollercoaster these last few hours were, he had a hard time trying to fight off a grin.

"Well, I'm heading downstairs," Ann said tiredly, stretching her arms over her head. "Gotta help cleaning up."

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you stay here with him. I'm sure you two want a few moments of alone time. If you know what I mean."

Not that it took a genius to gather what she was getting at, from how much she was winking and smirking. Ann was a lot of things, but subtle definitely wasn't one of those.

"Ann!"

She chuckled and deftly dodged the spare pillow Akira had offhandedly thrown her with a graceful twirl. In a second, she was out of the attic doorway, dancing down the stairs. 

"Just don't make too much noises! I want to sleep tonight!"

" _Ann!!_ "

Her laughter faded, leaving behind an uncomfortable, stifling silence. Akira noticed Ryuji was looking everywhere _but_ at him, as though trying to commit the image of Akira's room to memory. Slowly, he sat on the bed, and Ryuji scooted to the side to make some room for him.

"She's not even _trying_ to be subtle anymore, is she?"

But instead of the bashful bout of laughter Akira was expecting from him, Ryuji's face darkened in a pained scowl, not unlike a child faced with a test he was not ready to take and he didn't know how to get out of. Which was strange in and out of itself, since Ryuji was no stranger to winging every test and trial coming his way regardless of how prepared he was.

This was going nowhere really fast. Something was clearly bothering Ryuji, and he needed to take more drastic measures to bring it to light.

Slowly, making sure Ryuji saw him, he extended a hand and placed it over Ryuji's, like he'd done so many times before.

And Ryuji… nearly _jumped_ out of his skin at the touch. He didn't exactly reject it, but the overblown reaction did somewhat hurt.

"Hey, you've been acting kind of weird. Are you okay?"

"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine, I… guess."

Like Ann, Ryuji was many things - really _many_ things - but a good liar was not one of those.

"Yeah, and I'm Santa." Akira snarked back, only for it to backfire when Ryuji didn't laugh. "For real, you know you can talk to us. We will do anything we can to help."

He squeezed Ryuji's hand for good measure, but the other boy gave no reaction to it. He kept staring vacantly at his lap, at the posters on the wall, at the beams on ceiling.

" _Please_ , Ryuji. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

He didn't know what he was expecting, but it definitely didn't include Ryuji pulling his hand away from him. Ryuji. Rejecting him. _Ryuji_ , who knew all too well the pain of being cast away at every corner.

Ryuji just…

"So, y'all said I almost died, right?"

It took Akira all his mental strength not to crumble again.

"...Right."

Ryuji hummed softly. "The… the thing is-"

He looked at Akira straight in the eyes, and Akira's heart stopped right there and then.

"-Who are you again?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I didn't mean to update so early, it just happened cause I blasted through it, like, I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. I apparently like making my bois suffer lol
> 
> fair warning, it gets veeery OOC very fast.

The tension in the silence that followed was palpable, as it stretched and curdled horribly between them.

" _What?_ "

The mysterious boy gasped, his perfect jaw going slack and eyes of steel now blown wide and disbelieving. No scream, no breakdown. Just the softest of whispers, the breathless noise of someone who had been struck in a vital spot and knew he'd be dead by the time he hit the ground.

Ryuji's stomach lurched uncomfortably, and he soon found himself unable to keep eye contact any longer, not without feeling a burning sense of shame and guilt.

He didn't know who this guy was, but somehow, for _some_ effing reason, he knew he was important. _So damn_ important, that Ryuji knew that if the boy had asked him to die for him, he would have, no question asked.

And something about the way the other boy was looking at him, he _also_ knew that if Ryuji had asked the boy to die for him, he would have done so in a heartbeat.

For some reason, that was what hurt the most.

"I… I tried." he said, as though it was enough to try and fail. It wasn't a good excuse for track, cause there was no trying on the field, you either managed to stay under the time or you _didn't_ and you were out. "I tried, while you were carrying me here, I hoped that some familiar place would kickstart my brain, but… but…"

A weight lodged in his throat, and oh god he was so close to crying it wasn't even funny.

"But it didn't work."

The boy's tone couldn't be any farther from harsh or accusing. It was simply flat, stating a fact. Cool and collected. Sterile and clinical.

But if at first sight the boy seemed to be doing alright despite the bombshell, Ryuji knew better than taking him at face value. He knew where to look to find the despair boiling down beneath the cool surface; the tightening of the corners of his eyes, the slight twitch of long and thin fingers. He didn't understand why or how the hell Ryuji knew the guy so well to be able to pick on all his tells, but he just _did_ and… and…

It _hurt_ , effin' dammit.

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

The boy let out a heavy sigh that might have been a choked sob and shook his head, and Ryuji would be lying if he denied he was intrigued by how the unruly curls swayed and danced along the boy's lashes. He had to physically rein in the oddest urge to sink his hand into that tangled mess, to see if it was soft and wooly as it looked. A tingle in his palm told him this was not the first time he'd entertained this kind of thought, and that he probably had acted on that impulse before.

_( "You look like a sheep."_

_A devilish smirk._

_"Fitting, for the black sheep of the family."_

_"Dude, you know that's not what I mean."_

_The smirk softened, the cocky attitude faded off. An amused smile, fond and caring._

_"I know."_

_Silver eyes fluttered close, long lashes kissing the top of the boy's cheeks as he fully leaned into the touch with a soft, contented hum._

_"You know what? Scratch that, you're clearly a cat in human form."_

_"I'm reverse Morgana then. Fine by me." he scooted closer, seeking contact, and Ryuji wondered if tomorrow could never come, pretty please. And perhaps his anxiety had filtered through his face, cause the b-_ Akira _\- frowned. "Looking not so cool, Skull. What's up?"_

_As though he didn't know. Akira always knew what was going on Ryuji's mind, even better than Ryuji himself._

_"Do you really have to go, tomorrow?"_

_A frown, and displeased curl of the lips._

_And then…)_

Ryuji blinked, and the scene faded away from his eyes just as quick as it came, leaving him perplexed and absolutely freaked out. What the hell was that? A dream? But it felt too real. Then a… memory?

A memory of an important moment he and the boy - A… A… A-something. There was something about him and his name that just didn't stick. Something kept sliding away through Ryuji's grasp, like water slipped through the cracks in a glass - had shared, but for the life of him he couldn't recall what was it about.

And as moments passed, the memory grew hazy and blurry, until he didn't know whether it was real or had just imagined it to begin with. Maybe a bout of wishful thinking on his part.

While Ryuji was spacing out like a dumbass, the boy had stood up. Ryuji watched him as he paced around the room, a haunted expression on his face and his hands tangled in his hair, pulling so viciously at it that Ryuji had half a mind to yell him to stop already. It had to be painful.

Fluffy, frizzy hair… Where had he heard that?

"You don't remember…" the boy mumbled, seemingly talking to himself rather than Ryuji. Then he came to a halt, as though struck by a sudden thought. "But you remembered Ann's name, before, didn't you?"

Ann? Oh he meant Takamaki, right? There weren't many Anns around in Japan, after all. Of course he remembered her, she always sticked out of a crowd like a sore thumb, with her foreign colors and questionably eye-catching sense of fashion.

"Yeah, well, it's hard not to remember Takamaki. We went to the same middle school and boy oh boy, she made all of us turn our heads." He attempted a joke, but the laughter died on his lips when the other flinched ever so slightly. "We didn't really speak much, actually. We had a common friend, Suzui, but I never really worked up the courage to ask her to set me up with Takamaki. And I mean, look at her. She's clearly out of my league."

The other boy on the other hand, _definitely_ had a chance. The finely chiselled features, the dark charm that he exuded just by existing, like one of those vampires in the movies girls liked so much… if he and Takamaki got together, they'd probably make the best looking couple in all of Shibuya. Ryuji wouldn't be surprised if the two of them were models in their free time.

He tried his best to ignore the sudden, bitter weight that lodged itself squarely at the pit of his stomach as his mind conjured the image of Takamaki and the broody boy strolling around Shibuya's underground mall, hand in hand.

"You guys seem close, though. Are you together?"

Ryuji was an idiot. There was no amnesia strong enough to erase that notion out of his brain. He knew he was a dumbass who had the subtlety of a brick and he had long accepted it.

But even he could see as plain as day he just said something very, _very_ wrong.

The dark, brooding - Ryuji forced himself not to think _ridiculously handsome_ \- boy all but froze on the spot, so impossibly still Ryuji would think he had turned into a statue were it not for the slightest tremor in his shoulder.

"What? No! You and I-"

The boy approached with uncertain, shaky steps. He looked like he was about to cry. He lifted a trembling hand, and Ryuji watched it come closer and closer to his face, and he screwed his eyes shut, fully anticipating the pain of the incoming blow, hell, he would even welcome it if it made the other guy feel better. He could take a hit for the team, and taking hits had always been his second best asset, after running.

He waited.

And waited.

And the pain never arrived. Still, he could feel a warm presence linger, a few inches off his face.

He decided he could risk taking a peek.

The boy was looking at him intently, studying him intently as though Ryuji was some sort of complicated puzzle he had to absolutely crack open and he wasn't finding the key. He _searched_ Ryuji, scanned him with that piercing gaze of steel, looking for an answer to a question Ryuji didn't hear. His hand was hovering above Ryuji's cheek, just a breath away. If Ryuji were to shift, just a little bit, he'd be able to brush his face against the boy's knuckles.

But it wasn't poised as a waiting fist. It was a caress. A caress, waiting for Ryuji to accept it or reject it.

For a breath-stopping moment, Ryuji wondered how it would feel, if he moved in and closed the gap.

But chances were fleeting, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it strike of lightning in the sky and try as he might Ryuji was never fast enough to catch up.

With a dejected sigh, the boy retreated once again.

"You _really_ don't remember anything, do you? About… us."

Ryuji had the nagging feeling that 'us' was far more private, intimate even, than a simple reference to the group. The boy looked at him like he was struggling to breathe from the pain, and only Ryuji had the cure to his ailment. Begging, imploring for him to _remember_.

Maybe it would have been better if the guy had punched Ryuji in the face, after all. That pain he can handle. It was physical, straight forward, nothing more and nothing less.

That haunted look just hurt too much.

He averted his eyes, focusing on a cabinet that was improperly used as a makeshift nightstand. A book was sitting on it, just beside the tiny old lamp. The words "Captain Legend" were engraved in tacky yellow bold lettering over the black cover. It didn't look like a book someone so stylish and graceful would waste time with. It was more fitting for someone simple, rough around the edges and without a delicate taste. Someone like Ryuji himself.

"I'm sorry." And he meant it. Sorry for not being up to standard. For being a disappointment. For not being good enough.

The boy shook his head again.

"It's... alright," And it was clear he didn't mean it. None of this was okay, but he was still willing to put up a brave front and take it in stride, no matter what. Ryuji wished he could be so flexible and resilient. "We'll sort it out and find a solution. Like always."

He flashed Ryuji a charming and reassuring smile, so perfect that Ryuji would have been fooled were it not for how hyper aware he was of the tired lines around his eyes, betraying a form of exhaustion that went beyond the physical level.

Ryuji watched him, wallowing in guilty silence, as he reprised his pacing, thinking and mumbling to himself. He could almost hear the cogs of the boy's brain whirring furiously as he moved, his step quiet and agile like a cat.

Then he stopped again and pulled out his phone. A quick call in hushed voices, asking for a visit for a friend. Obviously the other person on the line was a doctor, and the thought made Ryuji's blood freeze solid in his veins, for it was awfully late and a private house visit would be expensive as eff.

"Dude, wait!!" As soon as the call ended, he wiggled, trying to stand up. Pain surged up from his stupid, useless legs, and he nearly whited out on the spot. "There's no need to call a doc on me! I'm fine!"

"Nonsense. I'm having you checked right now. Don't worry," he added when it was apparent Ryuji wasn't going to stay quiet about this. "Takemi is a friend of mine. She'll keep quiet."

Admittedly, he hadn't thought of that. So he _was_ doing something stupid or dangerous, and possibly both, huh? And if the guy was so worried about getting ratted on, probably something on the wrong side of the law. Were they part of some sort of delinquent gang or something?

For some reason, that was the thing that worried Ryuji the least. He felt it, etched deep in his bones, that he could trust this guy and the others, they weren't the bad people his mom used to warn him against.

They weren't like his deadbeat of a dad, or the guy would have already beaten him black and blue at the first chance he got, and that was enough to be good on Ryuji's book, thank you very much.

"It's not that, huh, I think. I just… listen, my mom works two jobs and she barely makes enough to keep a roof over our head. Ain't no way I have the money to pay a house visit this late."

Something shifted, the boy's eyes thinned, and a dangerous glint sparked to life, and holy effin' shit, he sure knew how to make it clear when he was _angry_.

"Money is _not_ a problem. Catch my drift?"

Well, it wasn't like he could even consider the idea of saying no, not when he was pinning Ryuji down with that powerful stare of his and a tone that broke no argument at all. He nodded dejectedly, and the other relaxed ever so slightly, offering him a tired smile, as though afraid he might have scared Ryuji with his repentine mood shift. 

"Sorry, that came out too harsh. I'm just… a little tired. It was quite a long day."

Ryuji groaned and let his head fall backwards on the pillow. He was seriously struggling to keep his eyes open. "Yeah, totally. I may not remember shit of what my life has been these last few months, but even I know today was exhausting. I feel like I've been running uphill for hours."

Again that tired smile, just the slightest hint of sass and fondness blended together just so perfectly, that for some reason elicits a dull ache in Ryuji's chest. "You can sleep if you want. I'll wake you up when the doctor gets here."

"But will you be there?"

Oh shit, he hadn't meant to say it out loud for real. Curse his effing big mouth, plunging him into trouble like this. The boy blinked and tilted his head, and Ryuji was already preparing to be shut down in ten different ways and-

"Do you want me to?"

What.

Ryuji gaped at him, but he was unreadable, a mask of porcelain and an enigmatic smile that was like the Mona Lisa's and it made Ryuji's hair stand on end and for some reason he could swear he felt the lingering taste of coffee on the tip of his tongue.

He should deny. There was no reason for someone he couldn't even remember the name of to stand at his side, and why would he want to oblige him. If Ryuji was a pretty girl, like Ann, he would understand, but a guy?

That was _different._

Different but… not _wrong_ per se, wasn't it.

Oh what the eff was he even thinking?!?

"I… I think I would like that. For some reason."

He _swore_ the boy's smirk just grew ten times cockier. Sensual, even, as the right corner of his mouth pulled up a little higher and showed the slightest flash of teeth and whoa there, heart, don't skip random beats like that.

Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit ohshitohshit-

"Then I'll definitely be there by the time you awake."

It was as final as it could get, and on instinct Ryuji knew there was no point in arguing with him, for _where there was a will there was a way and A---a had a knack to get his way with things-_

Wait, what the-

"Something wrong? Are you okay?"

Ryuji wasn't sure. He had the feeling he had stumbled on something important, but the more he thought about it, the blurrier it all got. What was he even thinking about? He couldn't remember.

With all due caution, he leaned back into the mattress once again - he hadn't even noticed he had jumped up at all. He ignored the concerned look the other boy was giving him.

"I'm fine, yeah, I'm fine. I was just… wondering, I guess."

"About what?"

The boy leaned in again, and Ryuji hated the flicker of hope in his eyes, hated to be the one to snuff it out so soon.

"What… is your name?"

And in fact, the timid flames tapered off in an instant, suffocated by the mask slipping back on.

"Akira. Kurusu Akira."

Akira… it was a nice name. Rolled off the tongue easy and smooth. Like its owner. He liked it.

"My, thank you. You flatter me."

Gosh effin' damn Ryuji's big mouth! 

The boy - Akira - chuckled and took a step back. "I need to go downstairs now. I… have to tell the others."

Oh, right. Ryuji supposed that was not a conversation to look forward, and his heart sank in sympathy. He wouldn't even know how to begin, if he were in Akira's place. Honestly, the other boy was taking it far better than Ryuji would have thought. He knew _he_ would have freaked out to no end.

"Okay. See you later then?"

A wry smile that didn't warm the steel in Akira's eyes. "Later."

And with that he was gone, slipping away as quiet as a shadow in the middle of the night, and if Ryuji hadn't been so focused on his retreating figure, hadn't repeated his name until it was engraved in his brain like a sorry excuse of a mantra, he would have wondered whether Akira had existed at all.

* * *

Akira's perfectly constructed smile crumbled to dust the moment he stepped out of the attic. His head was swimming, or perhaps _drowning_ was a better term to describe it, because a thousand of thoughts kept slamming into him from every part like fists and threw him down again and again and _again_ , until he had no air left in his lungs and he almost wished a bullet would pierce his head and _make. it. stop_.

And in the middle of it all, only unmoving point in the storm currently laying absolute waste in Akira, the very eye of the hurricane, there was Ryuji.

Ryuji with a goofy grin, asking if Akira and Ann were a thing, as though just a month before he and Akira hadn't spent a whole night cuddling on that same old, creaking bed, laughing the anxiety away before taking the biggest gamble of their life in Sae's palace. As though Ryuji hadn't pleaded him not to go even knowing there was no other way out.

It was one of Akira's fondest memory, and one he wasn't ashamed to admit he'd thought of the most during his hellish time in the interrogation room, one of the thoughts that he revisited as he was on the verge of passing out and ruin everything, that kept him grounded and awake despite the tempting promise of blissful oblivion those drugs offered him.

And it was… gone. A flash of lightning, a fleeting light, dandelion seeds blown away by a gust of wind.

And like thunder rolls after lightning, its roar shaking the sky and all there lay beneath, it finally hit Akira in full.

Ryuji was gone. _His_ Ryuji, the one he'd known and shared precious moments with, was… _dead_.

A powerful wave of nausea surged up, and he wobbled so violently he had to stop in the middle of the stairs and lean against the wall, lest he misplaced his step and tumbled down like an old rag doll being thrown away. Dry heaves shook him violently, with such force he could feel himself tear apart at the seams, bursting from within and something was spilling over, corrosive as acid, consuming all it touched.

Voices wafted up from the the shop, bubbly and giggly, and he latched onto them like a drowning man being thrown a lifeline, allowed them to pierce the storm and tie him down, an anchor he could hold on while the storm raged and screamed. The others needed to know as well; he had to keep himself together, for their sake at least.

So he quickly stitched himself up, patched the tears in his costume, weaved a smile on his face. It was showtime.

The rest of the Thieves had managed to clean up a good chunk of the ruined shop. The tables were returned into their original positions, the counter was clean again, and no more glass shards lay in wait of an astray foot to sink into tender flesh on the floor. Save for the empty spots on the shelves, where Sojiro kept his precious beans and dishes, the shop looked almost normal.

Ironic.

The others were all huddled up around a table near the counter - Morgana was _on_ the table, and Akira made a mental note to thoroughly clean it before Sojiro caught wind of this, or he'd have a stroke - chuckling and chatting amiably. Sojiro was nowhere to be seen. Probably thought to leave them alone to celebrate their success.

Ann was the first to spot him.

"Oh hey, you're back way earlier than expected!" she chirped happily, taking a sip of what seemed freshly brewed tea. "Thought the two of you would be glued by the mouth the whole night! What's up? He fell asleep in the middle of it?"

Futaba made a gagging sound and Morgana chuckled, though he dropped it once Haru threw him a reproachful look.

"Physical affection is indeed tiring, as beautifully expressive as it is," Yusuke commented dreamily. "Wouldn't put it past him to simply have run out of steam to go on."

"Inariii, stop painting gross pictures in my head!!"

" _Gross_?!? How dare you-"

"Something is wrong, isn't it?"

Of course Makoto would be the first one to see behind Akira's mask. The table fell silent in an instant, all smiles and cheery attitude evaporated like snow in the sun. Akira could feel their pointed eyes piercing into him like bullets, wounding but not killing.

"He… Ryuji…"

Gods, he sounded pathetic. On the verge of shattering in a thousand little pieces.

"He has amnesia," he choked out, "Everything that happened since the start of the school year… he forgot it all."

He forgot _me_ , he wanted to add, but it felt too self-centered. There would be time for him to process that later, on his own.

"You're kidding me."

Ann had stood up and walked up to him before he even realized she had moved at all. She was as pale as a ghost, her lip was trembling.

"You're joking, right. Tell me you are…"

Her trembling hands grabbed Akira's shirt, crumpling it in her grasp, and she shook him feebly. "You must be, you _must_ -"

He didn't reply. Didn't move, even when her fist raised and it looked like she wanted to punch him right across the jaw and goddamnit it all, she was all too welcome to do so. Anything, _anything_ was better than the all devouring sense of loss that was sucking him in, leaving him empty.

Another pair of arms, stronger but equally delicate, wrapped themselves around Ann's waist, and much to Akira's disappointment Ann let herself be gently dragged away by Yusuke with no further complaint.

"I'm sorry," she choked. "I just… you…"

She looked at Akira, still and immovable like a statue, and Akira loathed the pity in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry."

He was sorry too, he wanted to say, but the words lodged themselves squarely at the back of his throat.

"W-wait a moment, maybe he just got an awful case of forgetfulness? And we're making a big deal outta nothing? Just a little rest to charge up his batteries and I'll bet he will be as good as new~"

Akira appreciated Futaba's attempt at cheering him up, truly he did, but he could see her brave front was fraying at the edges, and the logic counterargument to her thesis was so simple it was clear she didn't really believe what she was saying. She, of all people, couldn't have forgotten status ailments never persisted out of battle, and injuries acquired in the Metaverse never carried over to the physical world.

Still, he didn't have the heart to rain on her parade.

"Yeah. Maybe."

There was a moment of silence as each retreated in themselves, protecting walls they thought long taken down now erected again, miniature palaces where to feel safe and seal themselves away. Akira pretended not to notice the worried glances his friends kept throwing at him, as though afraid he'd drop dead at any given moment, or that he'd go and do something stupid the second they looked away.

He didn't blame them, honestly. To be fair, he'd probably welcome a good ol' fistfight, a rush of adrenaline to feel alive.

Maybe he was more of a delinquent than he'd thought.

Maybe Ryuji was starting to rub off on him.

And maybe he should stop twisting the proverbial knife in the wound like that.

His phone pinged. Right, Takemi told him she'd text when she got off at the clinic and made her way. He needed to get the others away before she arrived; he trusted her, but it was bad enough that she knew Akira was a Phantom Thief and that she'd unavoidably find out Ryuji was one as well. They didn't need all of them to compromise their identities any more than they already have.

"I called a doctor to check on him. You guys should probably get going. It's getting late for the subway."

He didn't expect them to take kindly to that idea, and they definitely didn't disappoint.

"What?!"

"I cannot agree to this."

"We have to stick together! Aren't we thick a thieves?"

"We can't leave you alone to deal with Ryuji-kun. We want to help out.".

"You know you can rely on us, right?"

Ugh, his head was _killing_ him. He threw a desperate look at Makoto. She nodded gravely.

"He's right, you know." she didn't even flinch when all the others rounded on her, looking ready to fight. Or at least, Ann sure did. And she probably would have jumped Makoto, if they all hadn't known Makoto was perfectly able to wipe the floor with any of them in a fight once the Metaverse shenanigans were removed. He doubted any of them would forget any time soon the royal beating Ryuji took at her hands just after Kaneshiro's business wrapped up.

"But-"

"Staying here will only cast more suspicion onto us. Besides," she turned to Akira once again, and her voice lost the cool edge at once, "I assume you'll want to keep Ryuji here for the night? He can't exactly be left free to move around like that, in his condition."

Ann gasped and cupped her mouth with her hands, thunderstruck, making all of them jump out of their skin on instinct, ready to fend off an eventual incoming attack.

"Sorry, I just remembered… what about his mom?"

Akira flinched as though Ann had truly punched him, and her fist had broken the bone beneath, bruised the flesh, torn off the vessels until it found his heart and ripped it straight out of his chest, still pulsating and warm.

He had already thought of it, of course, already made a plan of what to do, what to say. He'd spoken to Mrs. Sakamoto once, she was easy going and fun to be around as her son, despite their situation. He could lie his way around her, make her believe her son was fine with him.

Akira pretended he didn't taste bile as the thought crossed his mind.

"I'll handle her. I already had Ryuji spend the night here on a whim, and she didn't think twice about it. We can do it again."

It was sickening. He was sickening. All smoke and mirrors, until it all shattered and someone got hurt.

Yusuke and Makoto exchanged a very concerned look. He briefly wondered what they were seeing in the glass, what Persona had come out in his reflection.

"Alright then." Makoto was quick to regain her footing. "Then we better move."

He and Morgana watched as filed away, all of them miserable and grieving in their own way. There was no trace of triumph to be found in the boisterous Phantom Thieves that boldly challenged the most important person in the country. Only loss and despair.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

"Wait, Akira."

Makoto had come to a halt on the doorway. Her hands were fidgeting with something, and she was biting her lower lip, as she always did when particularly distraught.

"Yes?"

She took a deep breath to steel herself. Then she thrust the thing she was toying with in his hands.

Actually, there were two items. His glasses, that he thought he had lost in the park and that evidently Ann had picked up when he wasn't looking and entrusted to Makoto for the time being. The right lens was cracked, but Akira paid it no mind; they were fake to begin with, getting it replaced shouldn't be too much of a hassle.

The second item, on the other hand, made his heart stop dead in his tracks. Something awful, something _violent_ surged up, and he was glad he wasn't in the presence of the owner of this item, or he'd end up actually deserving jailtime for what Akira wanted to do to him.

"It's a legislator's pin," Makoto said weakly, "Shido's Treasure."

Akira's blood was roaring in his ears, screaming for revenge. His fingers closed around the unassuming pin, hard enough to leave painful indents in his flesh, but it was fine, the sting was welcome as it meant he was alive and Shido was down and finally he'd stop stealing all that Akira's ever treasured and-

He wanted to fling it away, against the wall, watch it crumple on itself, like its previous owner once Akira - _Joker_ \- was through with him. He wanted to smash it, beat it until it was impossible to tell what it had been, all its value irremediably lost. He wanted to snap it open with his bare hands, tear it apart bit by bit even if it meant cutting his fingers open in the process.

Instead, he slipped it in his pocket.

"Thanks. Now go. Your sister is probably worried sick."

Makoto's concerned look softened ever so slightly at the mention if Sae. It was a trick he was quick to learn to deal with Makoto when she was being a tad _too_ perceptive. Misdirection. He was good at it. Came in handy a lot of times, even in the Metaverse.

"Yes, I'll be going now. I just… Will you be alright?"

Her eyes flashed upwards, leaving no doubt to what she was referring to.

"We'll manage."

A cool reply. Vague. Part truth and part lie, and neither of the two at the same time. Good, he hadn't lost his touch just yet.

"Call us if you need anything. You know we're here for you."

He nodded, and he hated that for all the praise he got for his smooth talking he couldn't find the words to properly express how much it meant for him to have people to call family.

Perhaps she understood regardless, because she smiled weakly.

"Then I'll be going. See you tomorrow."

She turned and stepped out, and as Akira watched her retreating back until she was a little spot in the far off distance, he wondered how much left he had to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the greatest closing line, I never know how to properly end a chapter. Yeah, Akira is being maybe too dramatic to be realistic, but to be fair I would probably lose my shit too if my bf I risked my life with more than once suddenly forgot about me. I'll try to keep him more in character from here on T__T
> 
> hope you enjoyed!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best chapter, especially the second half, but I was growing frustrated with it and all the rest that is happening, so I just said 'eff it' and gone with it. Sorry if it's not that good.
> 
> tw for mention of amputation and limb loss.

Ryuji had to admit he was not expecting this when Akira mentioned he was calling a doctor to see him. He was expecting an old, almost senile and dismissive geezer who would grumble all the way through and hold Akira up for some weird shit as payback.

He was not expecting to meet a goth chick in sinfully short miniskirt and punk spiky accessories that poked him every so often as she visited him with cool and precise fingers.

And call him horny all you want, but those legs were a _sight_ to behold.

Or rather, they would have been, if for some reason his attention hadn't kept shifting back to where Akira was sitting in the corner, slumped bonelessly in the stiff chair at the desk and staring emptily ahead, occasionally moving to reply to his texts and absently scratch the cat in his lap behind the ears.

The doctor lady was really good looking, but she had nothing on the lazy elegance Akira was exuding just by existing.

"Eyes on me," Doctor Takemi scolded him half heartedly as she caught him staring at Akira for the umpteenth time. Difficult to hide when the lady was literally pointing a flashlight in his eyes to see how his irises reacted, whatever that meant.

"Sorry."

She clicked her tongue, though he could swear he saw the corners of her mouth tremble, as though struggling to rein a smile in.

"Kids nowadays. So easily lovestruck…"

What?

No, that wasn't it at all. It was just hard not to be drawn to Akira in some form. He most definitely was _not_ lovestruck, for real.

He opened his mouth to make this clear, but Takemi chose that exact moment to switch off the flashlight and lean back with a sigh, and Akira was on her in an instant, hands shoved in his pockets and impassible face that did nothing to hide the distress in his eyes.

"Well?"

"I have good news, and bad news." She drawled, languidly stretching out her long limbs like a cat. Ryuji had to praise Akira for not staring at the hem of her skirt as it retreated dangerously high up for a moment; Ryuji _totally_ did.

Akira made a face. "Let's start with the bad news."

"Sure." Takemi shrugged, placing all her discarded equipment back in her back and then all but pinning Ryuji down with one of the most piercing gazes he'd ever seen, holy shit. "Bad news is, I have no clue what's wrong with you. Physically, you're perfectly fine as far as I can see, and there should be no indication to request for a more thorough check up at the hospital."

Ryuji gulped; he really didn't like the idea of going to a hospital. Those sterile, white rooms, like outta a horror movie… not for him, man. That was scary stuff.

"And the good news?"

"The good news is that nothing is wrong with you. You're in perfect health." She said with a clearly fake cheerful tone, and patted Ryuji's left leg, sending ripples of pure agonizing pain down his nerves, so much that his eyes rolled up and a pained gasp escaped his lips. Akira's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"He's in pain, though. How is that possible?"

"And that's what is so strange." she retorted quietly. "There is nothing out of place with him, and yet he acts like he's in atrocious pain. Why is that?"

Ryuji didn't like where this was going. "Hey, I'm not bullshitting you."

"I know." Takemi waved him off nonchalantly, "Agony is far more difficult to fake than you might think. You _are_ hurting, though your physical body is not. That's what I don't understand. If I were to trust my guts and place a name on your condition, I'd say…"

She trailed off meaningfully, her eyes sharp and piercing as she stared at Akira as though she was trying to X-ray him. Ryuji couldn't help but notice how tense Akira had grown. He looked like he was ready to take a massive hit at any given moment.

" _Phantom pain._ "

Akira's eyes widened in shock - hell, even the _cat_ arched its back and hissed, tail raised high and frizzy all of a sudden - but Ryuji only felt confused, of not a little spooked. I mean, phantom shit was cool, but also kinda creepy.

Takemi evidently caught on his lack of understanding. "Phantom pain. A mysterious condition in which someone feels pain in a part of the body that no longer exists."

This was getting creepier and more confusing by the second. "No longer…"

"Amputation," Akira came to the rescue. He looked pale as ghost, and if Ryuji squinted he thought he could see him trembling ever so slightly. "It tends to happen to people who lost a limb after trauma or an operation."

Amputation… _lost a limb_ , as in cut off entirely. Ryuji's stomach churned violently.

"But that doesn't make any effing sense…" his voice was horribly squeaky and shaky. On the verge of a panic attack. "I'm _fine_ holy shit. My legs are _here_ , they hurt as effing hell, but they're still attached!!"

Now he was shaking, and he could feel tears starting to pool up at the corner of his eyes and it was _lame_ and stupid and he hated it and he hated his _effing legs_ -

He swung his legs off the bed, ignoring how they felt like they were on fire, and all consuming pain was burning through the flesh. He wobbled to the spot, and Akira hurried to support him again, and he should really stop doing that if he didn't want Ryuji to drag him down to the ground with him.

"See? I can walk! I can even run! I'll be back at track in no time!"

Track… right, track team. He was good at it, his big hope for the future. Mom was so happy when he'd told her he had got a scholarship at Shujin for athletic achievements.

Track...

Wait, what was it again?

His head felt like it was splitting open too, effing hell. It made it so difficult to keep his focus.

"Okay, okay, now go back to bed. You need rest."

Takemi helped Akira put Ryuji back to bed. She was very cute as she chewed lightly on her painted lips, thin eyebrows furrowed in concern and concentration. Maybe he could make a pass at her, just for fun.

"Akira-kun, I need to talk to you. Alone."

There was a poignant pause, in which a silent conversation was taking place.

"Sure." was Akira's cool reply. For real, the guy was way too chill to be a regular human; Ryuji could only wish he was just a tenth as cool as Akira. "Morgana, you take care of Ryuji in my absence, alright?"

Alright, either Ryuji was going crazy or the cat just straight up _replied_ to Akira. That meowling was way too perfectly timed.

Even more so when Akira smiled fondly at the cat as it bounded over from the desk to the bed in a single, graceful leap and landed on the mattress right next to Ryuji, where it curled in a ball as though he effing owned the place.

"Good. Later."

And with that Akira was gone, soon followed by Takemi. Ryuji leaned back against the pillow with a heavy sigh, staring at the bare ceiling and the beams popping out of it. Who could even think of living here?

Man, but what an effing day. First he awakens in the middle of a park with zero knowledge of how he even got there and then carried to some place he had no recollection of, then this doc chick starts spitting BS on his legs… he just wanted it to end. Maybe he'll fall asleep and find out it was all a bad dream. His memory intact and his legs functioning so he could head over to the team and run his heart out, the inter-high competitions were about to start and this time he would win for sure.

Yeah… this time he would win, yeah.

Agh, there it was again, that stabbing pain in his head, as though someone was trying to carve out his brain with a sharp knife. He jolted as though electrocuted, almost dislodging the cat out of its resting spot. It leveled a somewhat accusatory glare on him.

"Sorry buddy, didn't mean to disturb you. It's just…"

Oh man, was he even for real, talking to a cat as though it could understand. He clearly was losing it.

It really didn't help that this cat did, in fact, feel a lot more human-like than he had any right to be. Nor that those huge blue eyes seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and mocking him for it.

"Sorry. I'm just a little effed up."

The cat tilted its head to the side and did the _thing_ again, meowing in a hushed way that felt just a tad too real, too human. Goddamnit, this whole shit was giving him the creeps.

Maybe he should consider seeing a therapist, cause none of this made a lick of sense.

He fell silent, trying to listen to the hushed voices wafting up from the lower floor, but they were too distant, and he couldn't even consider to move and get closer to the door to better eavesdrop, so he was quick to lose interest. It sounded an awful lot like doc chick was grilling Akira alive for this and that, and he could muster up enough respect for the guy not to listening in while he was getting the verbal slamming of his life.

Bitter guilt flooded his mouth when he ultimately realized Ryuji was the cause Akira was getting heat for, and judging from the voices Akira wasn't really pouring much effort in defending himself against Takemi's accusations. He was probably feeling responsible for what happened to Ryuji - whatever the eff happened in the first place.

God. Damn. _It_. He hated this, this _helplessness_ , it reminded him of when he was a kid and he had to cower in fear as dad threw shit at mom for every little thing and he could do nothing to help out or he'd take a beating too and end up with bruises that would take weeks to fade and mom would just look even more miserable. Years later, and _still_ he had to stand by as someone else took the fall for him.

Come _on_ stupid brain, fix yourself already. Be helpful, for once in your life.

But the headache was growing, and the more he tried to blindly reach for fragments of memory floating about, the more he felt like key pieces were slipping out of his grasp. He'd been at this place, shitty attic and all and he still loved it. Why? Why was it so important, when it was so bare and cluttered and miserable, and overall an horrible place to inhabit. This bed was old and bumpy and just plain uncomfortable, but why did he feel the most awkwardly satisfying feeling of safety while laying here and simply exist…

Ugh. He needed something for this migraine. He wished he asked for a pain killer to the doc before she went downstairs.

"Meow."

"Yeah, I know, I should just give up, I'm not good at thinking." Ryuji replied without even noticing. Weird. It wasn't like the cat had even said anything. It just meowed, like always. It probably wanted food or something. It definitely was _not_ trying to comfort him.

For real, this was becoming too bizarre for him to handle.

"You're a cute one, you know?" he grinned in amusement when the cat shook its head, as though appalled Ryuji dared to call him cute. Cause it clearly was a very intimidating and cool little tiger. Cute just ain't for him. Ryuji could picture this cat thinking something like that. _If_ it had been able to make up a thought like that, of course. Which it didn't, cause, y'know, it was a cat. And cats, cute and clever little furballs they are, just don't think the way humans do. They just don't care about looking cool and wooing the ladies, especially blond panthers. Wait, what. "What was your name again? Monamona?"

Hoo boy, but he could _feel_ the extreme judgment in the cat's piercing stare. The thing's ears flattened against the sides of its head, the very picture of disappointment, and maybe even a tinge of sadness. "Nya."

"Oh yeah, Morgana. Cool name. Sounds like a magician's stage name or something."

A magician, huh? That's cool, Ryuji always liked magic tricks. Mom always managed to make him smile with the vanishing coin thing.

~~What the hell?! I-it's much better than your magician-looking one!~~

Wait, did he really say that? And to whom?

Something hit the back of his hand, and he looked down to see Morgana had moved while he was spacing out and had managed to pry off Ryuji's phone out of his jacket's pocket, and was now trying to push it in Ryuji's hand with its nose. It looked impossibly smug when Ryuji reeled back in shock.

Alright, so maybe Akira _was_ a magician, or an animal tamer, cause there was no effing way that was normal.

"Are you even for real, man…"

His hand trembled as he took the proffered phone, never losing sight of the little mysterious feline, which simply cooed and took to groom itself, looking very pleased.

Fine. Fine. Maybe calling mom would help him out sorting his thoughts straight and get a grip. 

Without even looking, he punched in the password. 

Only for it to flash the ever so dreaded _Password incorrect_ message right at hs face.

Well, shit.

* * *

They had barely stepped in the bar's lobby when Takemi decided enough was enough and rounded on Akira.

"You were doing your Phantom Thieves thing tonight, weren't you."

It wasn't a question and as such Akira didn't see the point in denying, or confirming. His silence would be a sufficient answer to her.

"Thought so." She said with a sad smile, crossing her arms and leaning her back against the wall. "What were you doing?"

Alarm bells started ringing in Akira's mind at once. It was not Takemi's habit to pry in her patient's affairs; her job was simply to patch them up when they needed assistance, what they were doing before requiring her help was none of her business.

So, as much as he trusted her, Akira felt it was strange for her to show so much interest in the dynamics of the accident this time around.

And perhaps she felt him clam up, metaphoric hackles all raised in suspicion, because she sighed and some of the tension in her shoulders mellowed out.

"Listen, I know you don't like talking about it, and I understand. But this time I really need to know why there's a kid upstairs who acts as though his legs were blasted off, on top of cranial trauma to boot."

Akira flinched, her straight to the point words packing a harder punch than what he was ready for, even if he knew it to be true.

He could trust her this once. Besides, the Phantom Thieves were pretty much over regardless from here on. There wasn't really much left to risk losing at this point.

"What do you know of cognitive psience?"

It took Akira just a glance to figure out she had never heard of it before; he had expected as much, but it still did nothing to improve his already sour mood in the slightest. The idea of explaining the Metaverse to Takemi now of all times was exhausting just to think of, also because the more he thought about it rationally, the more he realized how much they still _didn’t_ know of the Metaverse themselves. Adrenaline and teenage boldness were truly a powerful thing.

“Long story short, there is a parallel layer of reality, one that is shaped by the cognition of those in it. We call that realm Metaverse…”

Something he had to say about Takemi is that she really knew how to listen; she let him talk freely for the most part, nodding along and occasionally prodding with a well placed question when it seemed like he had hit a roadblock in his explanation. Much better and easier on the nerves than Sae’s interrogation, that was for sure.

“So, you’re telling me,” she mumbled when he was finished recounting his story at last - for a second time, he should be getting used to this by now. “That when you guys go in your target’s distorted cognition, you sort of transform in what is essentially your truest form o being?”

He nodded, immensely relieved she had grasped the basic concept of it so quickly. His head was throbbing painfully, and all he really wanted to do was to check on Ryuji and crash on the couch for the rest of the night.

“And he had his accident while in this form.”

“Correct.”

“And…” She suddenly looked anxious, almost fearful, as though not entirely sure on how to broach what was clearly an uncomfortable topic. “Do you think he - his _other self_ \- is…”

He knew what she was thinking. It briefly crossed his mind as well, a moment of weakness in the direct aftermath of what had happened, and had vowed to never think along those lines ever again.

He trusted Ryuji. He trusted Skull. He had promised he would come back to Akira, and a Captain never went back on his word.

He shook his head, and she seemed to understand, for she backed off quickly from that cursed line of thought and heaved a sigh.

“Well, as it stands, I don’t think there’s much I can do for him at the moment, as his ailment is not of physical nature. I will try to do some research and see what I can find.”

“You will?”

He hated how much the underlying desperation, the will to cling to every single shred of hope he was thrown, bled into his voice. Takemi smiled that subdued, sad smile of hers.

“I can try. I’m a doctor, I have a moral obligation to help out an injured kid as much as I can. You keep an eye on him and report to me if something changes”

“Roger that.”

She moved quickly, purposefully, barely waiting for Akira to follow. In a moment she was outside of the bar, clearly itching to get started on the research. Only to briefly hesitate on the threshold.

“And… you take care of yourself too, alright? He needs you now, more than ever. Don’t go fall ill on us all.”

He smirked, because he knew that was what she expected of him, what she wanted to see from him, and he would provide. A mask and a cunning smirk, and all unnecessary worries flew away.

“Roger that. Take care of yourself too, and keep your eyes peeled on the news.”

She laughed and waved him off, and he waited until she had disappeared behind the corner to turn around and flip the sign to "Close", because of course Sojiro would forget all about it. Despite himself, he smiled at it, the sight of it strangely endearing to him, last remnant of normalcy in these troubled times and uncertainty. He will miss this place.

Oh well, there was still time. As of now, he had far more pressing matters, such as the fact he found Ryuji on the verge of engaging his own phone to a wrestling match the moment Akira stepped in the attic.

"What the hell is going on here, now?!?"

"I can't get this piece of shit to work!!" Ryuji yelled loudly - way too loudly, Akira needed to remind him the importance of inside voice, especially when he had a raging migraine going on - and flung the phone away. It fell back on the mattress with a soft plopping noise.

Morgana yawned and leaped down the bed. "It seems you need some form of passcode to unlock one of you guys's phone things. Ryuji forgot his."

Akira's eyebrows arched. Well, that was not in the plans. He really should have waited before dismissing Futaba, she probably would be able to crack it open within a minute.

Taking a deep breath - he was way too tired for this - he sat on the bed next to Ryuji. "Forgot the password?"

"Yeah. Makes no sense. Ain't no way I'm forgetting my mom's birthday. September 25th, there! But if I do this-" he furiously punched in the numbers, but the screen kept flashing its Password Incorrect message. "See?! It doesn't check in!"

"Maybe you changed it over these last months?"

The last months he didn't remember, Akira thought bitterly. The months of Ryuji's life Akira had been present for.

"Might be. That would be stupid though."

"Finally, something we can agree on!"

"Morgana, shut it."

Ryuji whistled. "Hey man, leave the cat alone. He didn't do anything wrong."

"I really don't need his snark right now. The situation is difficult enough without-"

He trailed off, a sudden realization piercing his brain and causing all his reasoning to go horribly off rails.

"Wait. You can't…"

"It appears he can't hear me talking anymore." Morgana said, and he had the decency to look appropriately dejected. "My Phantom Thief self got erased from his cognition when he forgot the events of this year, and as such he lost the ability to hear me. To him, I'm just an ordinary cat. Albeit a - hgh - cute one."

It was like someone just swept the ground from underneath Akira's feet, and he was falling, deeper and deeper and who knew how far he would plummet down before he finally impacted on something and cracked all his bones at once.

There was just _so much_ he could take in the course of a single day, and he was getting dangerously close to his limit. Right now, he won't deny the idea of a mental breakdown was indeed rather tempting.

"I… you…"

End this. He needed to end this accursed day _somehow_.

"Here, use this." He unceremoniously thrust his own phone in Ryuji's hands. "Just… do what you have to do and go to bed. I can't take this anymore."

A pang of guilt stabbed him in the chest as Ryuji crouched on himself, crestfallen and sad. "Sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

He stepped out of the attic to give Ryuji some semblance of privacy while he called his mom. Normally, he wouldn't really need to, as Ryuji was not big on manners to begin with, and he had no qualms with showing off how much he loved his mother.

This time, though, it was different, and perhaps Akira leaving had been for the best, because he was sure he made a face when Ryuji called 'Kurusu-kun', and scared Morgana enough for him to meow weakly and take a step back.

"I'm done!" Ryuji beamed as Akira came back inside and immediately handed his phone back. "She sounded a little weirded out at times, but I guess it worked. Thanks man, you're a life-saver."

"No problem."

He was too tired, too tired to conjure a fake smile, a reassuring and confident air. Ryuji's smile faltered as Akira pocketed his phone and finally - _finally_ \- slumped bonelessly on the couch, landing heavily on his stomach.

It was far from a comfortable position: the cushions were too soft, so much that he sank in them like they were made of quicksand, and the frame was neither wide or long enough to comfortably fit his limbs, so he soon found himself forced to curl on himself just to avoid falling off. A few minutes was all it took for him to start lose feeling in his arms and legs.

Oh well, if he managed to pass out while handcuffed to a chair, this will surely be a piece of cake. He just needed someone who beat the ever loving shit out of him, a few truth drug shots and he'd be done for a night straight.

Honestly, this day was doing a perfectly fine job of beating Akira to a pulp without any further assistance.

"Hey, dude. Shouldn't I be the one crashing on the couch?"

"Hush." Akira's voice was muffled by the cushions. "And sleep. We're talking tomorrow."

"But-"

" _Tomorrow._ "

For good measure, he wiggled about until he managed to turn around, showing his back to Ryuji. He regretted it the moment he heard the dejected sigh.

"G' night."

"Night."

But despite the exhaustion creeping right around the corner of his conscience, looming threateningly, Akira found it difficult to fall asleep. By the time Ryuji's breath shifted to a deeper and slower rhythm, Akira was still turning and tossing on the couch, eyes firmly closed as though to tempt a restful sleep that was never meant to be. Thoughts whirled about in his head, and try as he might, he just couldn't shake his mind off the one question he probably should ask Morgana - and probably should have had a long time ago, if only he acted less like a fool and more like the capable and mature leader people seemed to think he was - and yet didn't really want to.

_What happens when a persona dies?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say, Takemi is bae.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey, early chapter cause I just had a huge breakthrough with it and actually managed to finish earlier than I thought. I'll probably be unable to update for a while so it's probably a good thing (I hope lol).
> 
> I had a lot of fun with this chapter (it's all in Ryuji's POV, sorry Akira, you'll get your turn later) and I hope it's just as enjoyable to read!

As any teenager worth their salt, Ryuji had never been quite the morning person. He couldn't help it, even if coach kept nagging early morning was the best hour to get a good run in and the blood flowing hard enough and kickstart the brain for a brand new day, he just loved to sleep in. If anything, he could still get his run while rushing to school after he had inexorable woken up late yet again.

This time, though, the room Ryuji woke up in was still dark, the only source of light being the flashing lime green glow alarm clock on the old and rickety chair that had been placed by the bed as a makeshift nightstand and the timid light of the rising sun filtering through the cracks in the blinders. Six o'clock in the morning. That had to be a record.

He closed his eyes again, scrunched them so tight blobs of colors and little stars started flickering his vision, and perhaps he should wish on them like an idiot, and pray one of them will find it within itself to grant Ryuji a revelation, the last piece of the puzzle that will finally make it all clear, what is this place, why did he find it so endearing, why he felt the cat's soft weight beside him so aggravating and yet so beloved.

Why would his heart decide to randomly skip a beat or five when _he_ so much as glanced at Ryuji, or break in a thousand little pieces whenever he couldn't give the right answer to some unspoken question and _he_ would look so devastated.

Even now, Ryuji wondered why he was so hyper aware of the soft, deep breathing wafting from the couch, of the spicy and somewhat sweet scent lingering on the pillow, on the covers, on the very walls of this crappy room. 

Why he felt so pulled in by this mysterious stranger whose presence was so strong and yet so fragile, flickering in and out of Ryuji's consciousness when his attention was elsewhere, like a ghost haunting his mind, always there but not quite visible.

If he hadn't known better, he'd say he was-

No, that couldn't be. Absolutely nothing wrong with guys liking guys or girls liking girls, mind you, it was just… not for him. He would have noticed by now, he'd hanged around guys his whole life. He knew if he'd felt attracted to a guy that way. He could appreciate a well built, handsome dude like anybody else, but other than that? Nah fam.

But there were other guys, and then there was Akira. Completely different story.

It was like comparing a sparrow to a phoenix, a candle to the sun. It was just not fair of a comparison. Akira was just not fair, period.

Reassured by the steady rhythm of Akira's breathing filling the room, Ryuji cracked his eyes open to take a peek, and there he was, laying limply on the too small couch, so pale he nearly glowed in the faint growing light, frizzy dark hair shooting up direction. Like Ryuji, he had slept in his clothes, probably too tired to even consider changing in pjs or something, and despite how irremediably crumpled the Shujin uniform had turned, he still looked like he just jumped out straight outta a fashion magazine.

Ryuji would like to say he was jealous. In truth, he only wanted to sink his hands in that mop of soft curls and play with them, watch his fingers sink in the sea of dark waves, pulling slightly on the roots, gently, just enough to elicit that soft and delicious satisfied sound out of Akira again-

Wait, again? That was odd.

Alright, this was becoming too awkward too quickly. He'd better turn around before those thoughts could get the best of him.

Even if he was attracted to guys - _hypothetically speaking_ \- there was just no way he'd be up to Akira's standards, anyway. The guy _had_ to be the most popular guy in all of Shujin. Ryuji'd be surprised if he didn't have a fan club of his own back at school. The guy just oozed charm. He wondered how Ryuji had even managed to befriend such a cool guy. He wished he could remember. He knew it had to be a special encounter; he was one of those who believed in those scummy fortune tellers, he'd even say it was fate.

Akira stirred with a soft groan, and Ryuji instinctively held his breath. Quiet, keep quiet, don't disturb him, guy looked like he really needed the shut eye time-

"You're staring."

Well, shit. So much for keeping quiet.

"Sorry, didn't mean to be creepy or anything," Ryuji fumbled with his words when his heart quieted down enough for him to hear his thoughts again. "I just-"

Just what, exactly? Sighing and pining after him like a schoolgirl with a crush? Now that would be awkward as hell.

Akira's eyes fluttered open and there it was it, holy shit, that unflinching stare that felt like Akira was holding him at gunpoint, and it was piercing, it was cool ~~hot~~ but it was also somewhat _dangerous_ and maybe Ryuji had the makings of a delinquent in him 'cause _damn_ it made him feel all sorts of things he'd never felt before. A rush of adrenaline, a spike of dopamine, like the final stretch before the finishing line when you're ahead of everyone else.

And just as fleeting.

"Still nothing, right?"

It wasn't a question.

"I'm sorry."

Akira jolted as though in pain, then relaxed again and moved slowly, languid, like a lazy cat rousing from a satisfying nap, and pulled himself to a sitting position.

"It's fine."

He was good at pretending he was fine, Ryuji had to give him that.

"How are your legs?"

Good question, actually. There was still a dull, painful throbbing running around from his hips downward, and somewhere close to his left knee was a particularly stiff spot that hurt as hell. It felt like someone had just stepped on it and kicked until the bone beneath shattered.

Still, surprisingly enough, he could move. He required a little bit of assistance at first, leaning against the chair-nightstand first and then Akira when the latter caught wind of his intentions and leaped forward to help him out, but he could stand. His knees were still a bit wobbly, but he didn't fall over like a potato sack when he waved off Akira's overbearingly supportive hands, and it was already a victory in his books. He grinned.

"See? Told ya, just a little rest and I'd be as good as new."

Akira didn't smile. He just stared, his face an impassive mask betraying no emotion, and once again there was that weirdest feeling of being torn apart and scanned, little bit by little bit, only to be gently reassembled together by caring and dejected hands after failing to find what they were looking so desperately for.

It sucked, man. It sucked big time.

Then Akira moved, breaking off the downward spiral Ryuji's jumbled thoughts were going along. Fluid and elegant even while wearing a crumpled uniform and sporting dark circles under his eyes that betrayed how he had merely pretended to be asleep the whole time, he crossed the room to reach for the dusty old dresser in the corner. He opened the topmost drawer and rummaged a little bit, until he fished out a couple of shirts and pants.

"Here," he tossed a set to Ryuji, who caught it flawlessly as though they had done this a million times before. A printed t-shirt, a light gray hoodie and loose dark track pants, the kind of things Ryuji _would_ wear in his free time. "For you. Need my help?"

The idea of being helped out of his clothes by who was basically a stranger, all things considered, was pretty embarrassing, and Ryuji could feel heat splash his face in powerful waves. Perhaps even Akira felt how potentially humiliating this whole ordeal was, because his eyes softened and his lips quirked up in a tired smile that would scatter off at the first gust of wind.

"Got it. I'm going to the bathroom downstairs to change and then to fix up some breakfast. Yell if you need me, alright?" He said as he fetched a second set of clothes for himself, a lot more stylish and elegant than the casual sporty wear he'd offered Ryuji, and Ryuji briefly wondered why the guy had a hoodie and track pants at all if all he wore was fancy turtlenecks and jeans. The sportswear really didn't seem to fit his aesthetic at all, all lanky and graceful as he was. "Leave your uniform in the hamper in the bathroom when you're done. I'll wash it later with my own."

Wow, talk about full service. Now Ryuji was _definitely_ embarrassed. He liked being pampered from time to time - who wouldn't, really - but this was going too far. He knew Akira's intentions were good, but he was starting to make him feel like a child, always in need of assistance. It really wasn't cool, and it was quickly getting on his nerves, and honestly Ryuji was not really known for his self control.

"I can do it by myself, man." He blurted out without thinking. "No need to spoil me like a baby. I'm fine."

He instantly knew he said the wrong thing; Akira's eyes widened just a fraction, a minuscule thing on the outside that betrayed the massive shock on the inside, his smile faded and morphed in a soft gasp and his whole body stiffened up, taut and tense like a coiled spring.

Shit, he was _hurt_.

Hell, even the effing _cat_ seemed to have caught on it, for he hissed and spat at Ryuji from the bed, back arched and tail whipping back and fro in distress. It felt like the little thing was trying to give Ryuji the scolding of his life, and holy shit, if that wasn't an unsettling sight.

Akira moved again, kneeling by the bedside. He patted the cat, hushing softly, reassuringly, his fake smile back in place although the pain had yet to fade away from his eyes.

"He's right, you know…" He mumbled to the cat, who hissed in almighty displeasure.

When at last it became apparent the cat would not try to murder Ryuji on sight, Akira rose back to a standing position and turned to face Ryuji again. There it was again, the perfect mask.

"Sorry, Morgana can be quite a handful at times."

Boy but if looks could kill, Ryuji would be dead three times over. That cat was _scary_ as hell.

"Y-yeah… Sorry, I didn't mean to- I mean, you've been nothing but super kind to me despite all this shit and I just messed up and I'm-"

Akira lifted up a hand, effectively cutting off Ryuji's barely intelligible ramblings.

"It's okay. I'm the one who should apologize. I shouldn't have been making assumptions on my own."

Assumptions? What was he talking about?

"Huh," gosh, since when he'd been bouncing his left leg up and down like that? No wonder it hurt! And goddamnit it was so annoying. "I…"

A very awkward silence fell upon them, stifling and suffocating. For all his apparently laid back smiles, Akira was now doing his best trying to avoid eye contact with Ryuji.

"I'll go now." Akira eventually told to a spot a few inches from Ryuji's left ear. "Morgana, you come with me."

Said cat let out a loud whimpering sound that felt a little bit too much like a _"Why?!?"_

"No complaining. Come on."

With a glare to the rebellious feline, Akira walked to the stairs and stood there until Morgana caved in and rose from the bed, languidly stretched his back and hopped off. On his way out he mewled grumpily at Ryuji, hitting his calf with his tail as he walked past him. It was nowhere near enough to hurt, but the message it conveyed was loud and clear.

Alright, so the cat definitely hated him, good to know.

"Quite the little tiger you have there, you know." Ryuji whispered when the fluffy end of Morgana's tail disappeared down the stairs. Akira sighed.

"He's just stressed due to… recent events. He's usually not _that_ hostile."

Ryuji had the feeling the 'recent events' thing was a clever codename for 'Ryuji forgetting who the eff these guys who claim they're close friends are and what he's even doing with them'.

"Implying that he was a little shit from the beginning."

"Well," Akira chuckled, somewhat amused, a foot out on the first step. He looked like he was ready to bolt for it, but for some reason kept putting that off again and again, lingering, hesitating. "The two of you butted heads on every little thing at the best of times, but we all know you care for each other, deep down."

Ryuji frowned. "Butted heads? How do you even get in an argument with a cat?"

Again, he said the wrong thing; Akira closed his eyes, concealing the fond nostalgic look he had taken while talking of the cat once again, and though his smile widened Ryuji could tell he wasn't putting his heart in it.

"I know, right? It's ridiculous…" he trailed off, then shook his head as to forcibly shake himself out of his slump. "I'll go now and let you change. Don't hesitate to call if you need anything."

"Alright. Got ya."

"And about your clothes," Akira added as an afterthought. "I'm simply bringing the whole thing to the laundromat anyway. I really don't mind."

Oh, right, the laundromat. He had a point there, and Ryuji felt his cheeks burn from embarrassment once again. Of course he forgot about the effing laundromat, even though it was the most reasonable way to go about it.

"Oh yeah… sorry about that, I wasn't really thinking and-"

"You talked before you knew what you were saying," Akira effortlessly completed the sentence, as though he knew exactly what Ryuji was thinking, down to every word. His smile was just a tad too understanding, just a tad too sad. "It's alright. Take it one step at a time."

"Y-yeah…"

Akira flashed him one last smile - sweet, fond, and Ryuji wondered if it truly was for him at all, or the idea of Ryuji in Akira's mind - and stepped out, the sound of his footsteps growing fainter and fainter.

* * *

Ryuji might or might not have overestimated his well being.

Getting changed hadn't posed much of a hassle, thankfully enough, he just kept leaning against something the whole time and voilà, he was ready in… well not exactly no time, but at least he was spared the frankly humiliating need to call for help just to put a shirt and a couple of pants on. He _got_ this, okay?

He tried to ignore how wonderful Akira's clothes felt on him; they were soft, loose but enveloping regardless, a perfect fit despite the fact Ryuji was a couple inches taller than Akira himself. And the scent, damn that scent, fresh as detergent but also deep and rich as freshly brewed dark coffee, like the one Akira loved so much and Ryuji hadn't the faintest clue how he knew this, he supposed Akira was a coffee type.

Still, his elation for the success of his clothes changing mission was short lived, for he had forgotten the most formidable foe was still lying in wait.

_Stairs._

For real, he thought angrily as he all but slid against the wall with his right shoulder while trying to balance his balled up uniform under his left arm, _eff_ stairs. Elevators for life.

Boy, but his left leg was absolutely _killing_ him. The eff was wrong with it.

If it hadn't been for the delicious scent of curry that had soon filled the whole hallway, he would have probably given up and curled to a ball to clutch on his stupid leg.

But no, he had to go on. Show that he could make it just fine. He was fine, his legs were fine, they'd have some breakfast and shit was going to sort itself out. There, a perfect plan.

He nearly slipped on the second to last step, the little traitorous thing, but at last he made it to the ground floor. The scent of curry and grounded coffee beans was so intense down here that he felt dizzy when it hit his nose with the force of a truck. Keep focus, Ryuji!

He took a little detour to the restroom on the side - whoa, tiny, and Ryuji lived in tiny. If this was tiny for him, it meant it was seriously small - to refresh himself and dump his rumpled clothes in the hamper Akira had mentioned, and then slowly made his way to the cafè's lounge.

"Ah, there you are." Akira greeted him from behind the counter when he saw him limping his way through the doorway. "Breakfast is almost ready."

And again something weird hit Ryuji right in the chest as he took in the sight of Akira wearing a dusty green apron and deftly stirring the curry cooking up on the stove, long gloved fingers fluttering as he poured a pinch of this and that and moved between what seemed like hundreds of jars and pots with unwavering confidence and purpose.

It made Ryuji's mouth go dry, for some reason.

He decided to focus on the cat instead; Morgana was resting on the counter, busy grooming himself, but he stopped and threw him a glare when he saw Ryuji approaching and plopping on a stool at the counter.

"Yo man, I know you don't like me, no need to glare me to death every three seconds, you know?"

Morgana let out a low hiss in response.

"Leave him alone," Akira said, and Ryuji couldn't quite decide whether he was talking to him or the cat. Probably Ryuji, because he turned and carefully placed a steaming cup of coffee on the counter in front of him. "Coffee good for you?"

"Huh…"

Truth was, he was never the biggest fan of coffee. It was bitter, and pungent, and if he wanted to wake himself up he generally went for a quick run; it was cheaper and more enjoyable, so a real win-win.

Akira grinned. "I know you don't really like coffee much."

For real, the guy had to be magic. Psychic at least. His on point comments were seriously freaking him out.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. You have all rights not to enjoy something because it's not to your taste." Akira poured a second cup out and placed it next to Ryuji's. Probably for himself. "If I were you, though, I would try to avoid saying it out loud in front of Sojiro. He can get a bit _passionate_ on the topic, if you know what I mean."

Ryuji had no idea who Sojiro was and how relevant he was to Ryuji or Akira, but something about the tone Akira had used just made a bout of laughter bubble up from his chest. Akira looked very pleased with himself.

"Still," he began, somewhat hesitantly, as he turned off the stove and leaned over to fetch a couple of plates. "I followed a different recipe this time around. If… if you're willing to trust I'm not trying to poison you, I would like if you could try it out."

He really didn't need to look so bashful. It was only coffee, right? No need to make a fuss about it.

"Sure, man."

And indeed Ryuji had never been a fan of coffee, but _this_ coffee was something else entirely. There was no bitterness, no acrid aftertaste; it was sweet, and slightly creamy, and with a warm flavor of hazelnut and something else that he couldn't quite place. It was simply heavenly.

"Woah, what's this sorcery? It's actually great."

Akira hummed and placed the first dish in front of him. The curry smelled absolutely delicious, enough to make Ryuji's empty stomach roar with desire. 

"Don't finish it up in one go. Sip it along the curry to maximize the flavor. I put ginseng in it, by the way," he added, amused by Ryuji's reaction. "We tried it once a little while ago; you seemed to like it back then, so I tried to replicate it. It seems we can call this experiment a success."

Ginseng, huh… Ryuji hadn't even _known_ he liked ginseng in the first place. It was so effing weird, how Akira seemed to know him like the back of his hand, and much better than Ryuji knew himself.

Just… how much had happened during the time he couldn't remember? He remembered enrolling at Shujin, entering the track team and getting a scholarship when his athletics results started coming in… but soon after that, everything was fuzzy and shit his leg _hurt_.

A hand landed on his shoulder, gentle but firm, and shook him lightly. He raised his head only to find himself inches from Akira's face; so close he could see his own reflection in Akira's eyes, the lightest blush ringing the tips of Akira's ears a lovely pink, could feel his warm breath fan over Ryuji's lips, could almost taste the coffee's lingering on Akira's lips and-

"Don't overthink it. It'll come back to you, eventually."

He only needed to surge up, press on, close the distance. He never kissed a girl. Would this be different? Akira was good looking enough to pass for a girl, with the due adjustments. And Akira was a pretty androgynous name to begin with.

Should he? Shouldn't he? Akira would probably hate him-

Akira's eyes were scalding. For a breathless second, they flickered downward, blatantly resting against Ryuji's lips. Didn't someone say when a someone looks at your lips it meant they wanted to kiss you? Or something along those lines.

Still, _holy effing shit_ he could swear Akira had just _winked_ at him and was -

" _MEOW!!!_ "

Oh, that _effing_ cat!!

Something shattered, a bullet piercing through glass. Akira leaped backwards as though he'd been burned, his face now openly flushed. Ryuji didn't even want to know how his own face was looking. If the heat was any indicator, he was closer to self combustion than he was willing to admit.

"Sorry," Akira said, once again not meeting his eyes and focusing on his own breakfast. "I got carried away."

Ryuji's lips were still tingling, a delicious electric spark running down his neck and scalp, causing his hair to stand on its end. Goosebumps littered his skin.

"Y-yeah. Me too."

They didn't really speak much after that. The air was tense, charged, electric, and it felt like every little movement was amplified, or maybe it was just Ryuji's nerves acting up and picking on every little thing Akira did.

There was so much he wanted to ask about, so much shit he didn't understand. Who was Akira to him? Who was him to Akira? What the ever loving eff was that moment earlier, when Ryuji could _swear_ they were going to kiss and he should have been freaked out to hell and back and for some reason he was _not_ -

But the damn cat was still there on the counter next to them, watching Akira and Ryuji with stern and judgmental eyes a mere cat had no right to have, and his questions simply sat there, slowly coalescing into a bitter lump at the back of his throat. He finished breakfast, and watched as Akira snatched the empty plates and cups and put them away in the sink at the speed of light.

"I can help out with that…?" he said, desperate to break the ice.

"No need. I'll get them done later."

Tense. Way too tense. Too many things hanging, weighing them down, ghosts flickering in and out, their outline unclear, always morphing, always changing, like mounds of clouds on a particularly windy day. Ryuji couldn't make out a clear shape out of it all, didn't even know where to look.

It was driving him nuts, alright.

_How_ did he even lose his memory to begin with? No one till now told him jack shit of what happened to him to reduce him in this sorry state.

"A few friends are coming over, by the way."

"The guys from yesterday?"

Akira's eyes softened. "Yeah. We're pretty close knit."

The idea of being in room full of people he knew nothing about while they knew every little thing about him didn't really appeal to him. As long as it was Akira, he guessed it was fine: Akira was Akira after all, and he was only one guy. That much Ryuji could handle. Any more than that? Not so much.

"Ann will be there, if it helps making you at ease."

"Takamaki?"

Akira nodded, somewhat dejectedly. "Yeah, just don't call-"

The lobby was suddenly filled by the noise of keys inserted and twisted in, causing Ryuji to jump out of his skin.

"Ah, these have to be Sojiro and Futaba. I did ask them to come early."

The door to the cafè opened, and a middle aged man with a white fedora hat made his way in. So he was Sojiro, huh.

"Good morning, boys. You sure are up early for a Sunday morning." he sighed, placing his hat on the counter. His eyes darkened when they fell upon Ryuji. "Hah, yes… Futaba told me what happened. I'm sorry, boy. You shouldn't have never needed to put yourself in harm's way like that."

Huh, that… really didn't help clear Ryuji's mind, no. Even less when a child with long ginger hair popped out of nowhere behind the man, eyeing Ryuji warily from behind her huge ass glasses. The eff was wrong with all these people?!?

"Ryuuujiii…" She whined through a heavily stuffed nose. "D'you remember me now?"

She looked like she was about to start crying and holy shit that was the one thing he wasn't ready to handle.

"Not yet, Futaba. Don't stress him out," Akira saved him again as he stepped out of the counter and gently wrapped his arms around the girls midriff, perching her delicately on one of the stools as a caring brother would do with his little sister. "More importantly, do you have your laptop with you?"

"Of course, silly!" She sniffed, tapping the bag she kept strapped to her shoulder. "What kind of hacker do you take me for? I am nothing without my computer! Nothing!"

"I _really_ hate hearing you say that." Sojiro grumbled with a long suffering sigh. Akira simply smiled at the girl's bold antics.

"Ryuji forgot his phone's password. Can you unlock it for him?"

"Huh hu sure can! That's very easy!"

"W-Wait, whatcha doing to my phone?" Ryuji stammered when the girl jumped up from the stool and approached him like a zombie ready to feast on its prey. He didn't like where this shit was going. "Hey, for real, what- HEY, YOU LITTLE-"

He had barely managed to see her as she darted forward and swiped his phone from the front pockets of his - Akira's, he corrected himself - hoodie. Holy shit, the girl was _fast_.

"Nyahaha, now we'll see all of Ryuji's little dirty secrets~"

He leaped after her, but the girl had already jumped over the counter and conjured a laptop and some strange stringy device from her bag. In a minute it was already up and running.

"Ah, fine," he threw in the towel. Screw it, for real. What even did he have to lose? He couldn't even remember if he had any dirty little secret! "Do whatever."

"Aw, don't be like that. We already know you and Akira are -"

" _Futaba_."

Whoa. There it was again, the sheer authority - the danger - in Akira's voice. He threw her a pointy look at her, and that was enough to set her straight. Even Sojiro - Futaba's dad, Ryuji presumed - whistled, impressed.

"Sorry."

Silence fell again. As Futaba worked on Ryuji's phone, Akira prepared more breakfast for the newcomers, joking with Sojiro how uncanny it was to be treated like a client in one own's establishment, and Ryuji learned Sojiro was the owner of this place, while Akira wasn't even a proper employee. He just lived in the attic here for some reason, and helped out around the cafè when he had the time.

"Wouldn't mind taking you in properly when you come back, you know." Sojiro was saying, sipping on his coffee. "You really can brew a mean cup now."

Wait, was he going somewhere?

Akira smiled, polite as always. "Thanks. We'll see."

Well, if that wasn't a really vague answer.

Luckily enough, it didn't take Futaba that long to crack Ryuji's phone. They heard a beeping sound, and the girl reemerged from her place crouched on the floor behind the corner - _why though_ \- a victorious grin splitting her face in half as she waved the now unlocked phone like a flag.

"There ya go, ez pz. The passcode is 0411 by the way."

0411… Knowing himself, that had to be a date. But 11th of April? That was really random. He couldn't remember anything meaningful happening on any 11th of April.

She and Akira exchanged a meaningful look that was not lost on him as he pocketed back the phone. Akira even looked paler than usual.

"Thanks, I guess."

"No prob." Futaba said with a shrug, starting to wolf down her curry.

He waited until the tension somewhat softened and Sojiro, Futaba and Akira were back engaging in playful banter over this and that, and scooted his stool a bit on the farthest end of the counter, towards the door. He took out his phone and punched in 0411.

It got in, no prob. But why.

And more importantly why there was a hole in his home screen, as though something had been recently deleted?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should stop using cheap one liners to close chapters, but I swear I never know how to put an end to a chapter. Hnngghh why is writing so hard gosh dang it


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy, this chapter was a real struggle. I wasn't liking it at first, so I ended up overhauling it completely with a scene that was unplanned but managed to really speed up the sluggish pace the fic was starting to take. I'm fairly satisfied with it; it could be a lot better, in the hands of more skilled writers than me, but I feel like it could have been immensely worse, knowing myself lol
> 
> Anyhow, let's dive right in. Please don't hate Ryuji too much for what he says/does, he's very confused at the moment. And also, this is gonna be hella OOC. In part it's intended, due to plot, the other part is just me sucking at writing lol I apologize about that.

" _You have to be shitting me_."

This had to be a joke, right. There was no effing way any of the shit these guys were spouting was real. _Could_ be real. Seriously, stealing hearts? Cognitive mumbo jumbo shit? Phantom Thieves? What a load of bullcrap!

It had to be bullcrap. No way in hell it could be real.

The girl that had been talking up until now looked sad.

"I'm sorry. All of it is true. In fact, you were injured during our last heist, yesterday night." She said, tucking a stray lock of short brown hair behind her ear.

"You are one of the founding members of the Phantom Thieves, as a matter of fact." The bored looking blue haired guy interjected quietly. "The one who has been at it the longest, right after our leader."

Ryuji didn't need to be told who this so called leader was, even if he hadn't caught the guy throw a quick glance at Akira, currently sitting beside Ryuji. He already knew it, deep down, and honestly, who else could it be?

From his spot on the centre of the table, Morgana let out a long, drawling meow. The girl with the fluffy curly hair that might or might not be Ryuji's senior at school chuckled softly.

"And Mona-chan, of course."

Oh yeah, apparently the cat could talk to these guys. And according to them - and to the effing _cat_ himself - he was not a cat at all, but some sci fi bullshit like a human stuck in a cat's body or stuff like that. Yeah, and Ryuji was Santa. Sure thing.

Goddamnit, his head was _killing_ him. Throbbing pain was hammering on the inside of his temple, and soon enough he was feeling queasy, nauseous even, and the shirt Akira had kindly lent him was now sticking to him like an uncomfortable second skin, drenched in cold sweat. Before he knew it, he was leaning forward, sinking his face into his hands. His palms were sweaty and gross, but he'd take anything to cut out the looks full of pity these strangers were leveling on him.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to crouch in a ball and vomit and cry until there was nothing left. How could he believe this? That he ended up being a… a delinquent, a _criminal_ , holy shit. That his promising career as an athlete had sunken miserably before it even left the port. That everything he ever put effort in just failed.

How did that saying go? Where there is a will there is a way?

Effing _lies_.

"Come on, Ryuji! You can't tell me you forgot all the crap Kamoshida did! All the shit he pulled us through!" Takamaki raised her voice. She sounded like she had come down with a horrible cold over night. It felt so unreal, to hear her address him so familiarly when he couldn't remember _talking_ to her, not even once. As far as he knew, she was the half foreign girl who couldn't fit in and was out of everyone's league. And yet here he was, apparently on a first name basis with her, in possession of her phone number, and unaware of how he'd ever accomplished that.

Kamoshida… The name rang somewhat familiar, though not in a good way. It sent a shock down his spine, all the way down to his left knee - his _bad_ leg, because he apparently had a bad leg and he didn't even know it - and his muscles clenched, begging to move, to release some of the pent up energy, possibly in some destructive way.

He could tell he hated the guy, and he didn't even know his face.

This was just insane and he could not stand it any longer.

"Ryuji," This was Akira, whispering in his ear, all concerned and kind even when he had no business to. "Are you alright?"

Eff no, he wasn't alright at all! Here they were, all of them, pitying him for shit that happened and he had no freaking clue, telling him he'd become the loser he had sworn off he'd never become after that deadbeat of his old man had finally up and left. Talking to him so friendly and casually when he couldn't even recall their names!

Again, all he wanted to do was scream. To yell that no, he wasn't _fine_ and… and…

And that he was _not_ the Ryuji they knew, and he'd _never_ be, so they can wipe those sad looks off their faces already-

"Ryuji!"

He was on his feet, his hands curled in tight fists at his side. His dazed mind barely registered he was trembling like a leaf. Only the shock and mild fear rippling around the table like a tidal wave. Hell, even that Sojiro geezer looked up from behind the counter, the tv he was watching abruptly forgotten, to throw him a stern and reproachful glare.

And who could blame them, if they were scared he might act up? He was a delinquent. A thief. Swinging a pipe or some shit like that. Of course they were afraid. He'd be afraid too.

He _was_ afraid too.

The cafè, previously so warm and comfortable and cozy, suddenly shrunk on Ryuji, the air grew thick and the walls were closing in, and Ryuji knew it was all in his head, but he couldn't breathe and all his mind was focused on was to _run_.

"I gotta go."

He heard protests, the screeching sound of chairs being roughly pushed back and six pairs of feet scrambling to catch up, but they were too slow compared to him, and by the time Akira - who had been the first to realize what was about to go down and the quickest to react - had managed to fling himself out of the door after him, Ryuji was already way up ahead, running like there was no tomorrow, uncaring of where he was going as long as he put some distance between him and a truth he just couldn't accept as real.

"Wait, Ryuji!"

No, no, no, he couldn't wait. He couldn't stop, no matter how absolutely gut wrenching it was to hear Akira scream for him like that, for some reason. Faster, he needed to go faster, no matter the blinding pain flaring in his legs, or how his left knee felt about to fall off any minute. He ran and ran, stumbling whenever some faceless passerby slammed into his shoulder and cussed him out for being a useless punk, but he never stopped.

Run, keep running. Breathe in and breathe out, rhythmically. The cold winter air was like a whip on his face, leaving a stinging trail on its wake.

"Ah! Ryuji! Back so soon?"

Wait, that voice was familiar. As in, familiar _familiar_ , even for him. He came to an abrupt halt, just in time to avoid crashing in the owner of the voice and the crate of sport equipment she was carrying in her arms. Oh yeah, this was his favorite sport shop, had been for years. He had bought all his shoes and suits from here, the entire time he'd been on track and field. The kind lady would sometimes slip in a discount for him, here and there, as she knew the situation he and his mom were in. She was like a distant, but loving aunt to him at some point.

It really should not come as a surprise that his legs brought him here, of all places. It was kind of like his second home by this point. There was a time he dropped by every other day, and he wouldn't have been ashamed to claim it was his favorite place out of all Shibuya, heck even out of the whole city. It was the place where his dreams came true, even just for a fleeting hour or two, and for a moment he was a kid again, with stars sparkling in his eyes as the tacky smell of new leather and rubber made his nose sting.

"Oh, huh, yeah, I just-"

Miyamoto-san's smile faltered. "You don't look so good. Are you alright?"

No, he effing wasn't alright. He was running for that same exact reason!

Wait a minute, though. She would know, if he failed track and field. He would have told her, that he broke his leg and his dreams were shattered with it. If there was someone, other than his mom, who would be able to tell him the truth - the _actual_ truth - it would be her.

He swallowed thickly. Why was he hesitating? Was he… afraid?

"Actually…" he began, shoving his sweaty hands in his pockets as he tried to keep a cool and relaxed appearance. "I was wondering… how long has it been since I dropped by here?"

She tilted her head in confusion. "My, my, have you forgotten already? You're such a ditz."

She laughed, and though he could tell she had meant no ill with that lighthearted jab, for some reason he felt like a massive weight had just lodged itself squarely at the pit of his stomach.

"Ha, ha," he followed her lead, every 'ha' coming off drier than the last. He was already regretting broaching this topic altogether. He pointed at the box in her arms. "Can… can I help you with that? It looks pretty heavy."

"Oh this? It's not that bad, really. It's just running shoes. You know the drill, they take so much space, but they are very light. Wanna try some on? I haven't seen you buy a new pair in a long time. Actually," she sobered down quite heavily. "I haven't seen you or your mom at all for at least an year, before last month. And even then you weren't particularly talkative. What have you been up to? You're still doing track and field, right? It would be a shame to throw away your talent like that."

Yeah, a damn real shame, ain't it. He watched Miyamoto-san place down the crate and start putting the shoes on display behind the glass, without really registering any of that. Not the expensive and high tech model, not the once beloved smell of leather.

Ugh, it smelled _horrible_ , holy shit. The moment the stink hit his nostrils it felt like someone had just bashed his nose in with a pipe. He gagged instinctively, and it was pure luck Miyamoto-san was too busy to pay him any attention or she would have seen how harshly he had blanched, how gaunt and just awful he looked as his back slouched forward and he leaned all his weight on his right leg, as though the weight of the entire world was pushing him down and he just didn't have it in him to keep standing.

"Let me guess," the older lady was now rambling happily, "It was a girl, wasn't it? Got the hots for a fine pretty little lady and got sidetracked, started training less and dating more, and then you broke up. How typical."

She threw him a knowing and sleazy look he had never deemed her capable of. He felt himself blush all the way up to the root of his hair.

"What?! No! Of course not! I-"

But she chuckled, waving him off. "I suppose it's natural, after all. You're young, you have needs. But allow an old hag to give you a piece of advice," and here she lowered her voice, gesturing him to come closer. He took a tentative step forward. "It's not worth it. You're young, you still have a long and bright future ahead of you. Make it big on the field and you'll have plenty of ladies falling at your feet! High school crushes are just that - crushes. Nothing too important. Just forget it all and run forward."

She stepped back, a huge smile splitting her face in two. It was clear she was very pleased with herself for the little pearl of wisdom she had just imparted on him. She rummaged a little in the box and shoved a pair of sport sneakers in his hands. Electric blue with small yellow lightning decorations on the side. His favorite colors since forever.

"There you go, they're on me this time around. Your mom will be so _proud_ of you, I just know it."

She was positively giddy. Ryuji felt bile rise threateningly at the back of his throat.

"Sorry," he choked out when it was clear he couldn't hold it in anymore. "Gotta go now."

The shoes fell out of his limp hands as h broke into a run, his form askew and his pace uneven and just the kind that a dedicated runner such as himself would never have. A broken mess, like himself.

He ran, but he did not know where to go. The streets his legs were bringing him to were familiar, but also not at the same time. Shops he remembered being there now weren't, people that used to be part of his life as long as he remembered were missing, and his head was bursting at the seams as it tried and failed to make any sense out of all this shit.

Kamoshida, broken leg, failure… failed, he failed mom, he failed Miyamoto-san, he failed his friends at the track team, he failed about everyone and everything he'd ever given a damn for. So much for proving he got this. He never really got anything, did he.

His phone was ringing in the pocket of his hoodie, but he ignored it. The freezing December wind slammed into him like a hammer to the gut, cold and merciless. Something flashed in the steely sky above, and a soft, threatening rumble soon followed suit. Perfect. Maybe he should just give up, let the storm blow him away, carry him who the eff knows where.

His left knee felt like it was on fire.

A steely voice caught his attention, and he realized he had run way further than he'd intended when he realized he was nearing the station. Perhaps he should go in, hop on the first train and drift away. Wherever it went, it went, who cared. Not him, that's for sure.

He stopped and took out his wallet, thanking all the gods up there he had the presence of mind to take it with him earlier that morning. He had just enough coin for the subway.

He was _not_ the loser delinquent they wanted to make him believe. He effing got this.

Only after he bought a ticket for Ichigaya and boarded the train he finally decided to take out his phone once more. The screen was flashing insistently, as it had done for the last hour or so, but he made no move to pick up the call; he was too transfixed by the picture of Akira pulling a weird pose and laughing, completely ruining the intended effect in the process. Even in the poor quality of the photo, it was hard to miss the fondness in his eyes as he looked at the camera's lens, and Ryuji just _knew_ he was the one snapping the picture, possibly even pulling weird ass faces just to get Akira to laugh. It felt so weird, to see the stone faced guy with a composure of steel act so normal, so open. He had a very pretty smile.

Something painful stabbed him in the chest. He was a stranger to Ryuji. He didn't know him, and Akira didn't know him, despite whatever he might say. Ryuji had no business saying sappy shit about a guy he didn't know like how pretty was his smile.

The call dropped, Akira's picture fading with it. In a matter of seconds it was up and ringing again, but this time another photo filled his screen, one that it nearly made him choke on his spit, whether from embarrassment or hilarity he couldn't say; it depicted Takamaki and himself, blowing kisses at the camera in the most flamboyant and frankly obnoxious way. From the slight blur at the edges, it wasn't hard to deduce whoever was taking the picture was having a serious hard time keeping a straight face.

He wanted proof; well, here was proof, right in his phone, hard, undeniable. Proof he'd been proud of declaring himself a Phantom Thief along these people, arbitrarily stealing hearts of shitty adults that polluted their society. His own words, according to Niijima-senpai. She had laughed about it, dismissing it as a joke, but Ryuji had felt a chill at that comment. He wouldn't go as far as to say they hadn't deserved it at all - that Shido dick sounded like a real douchebag - but going as far as to risk a mental shutdown?

How the hell did he ever turn out like this?

He just… he just wanted to run, man. Nothing more, nothing less. Stealing hearts, reforming corruption… it was not for him.

Like Akira before her, soon enough even Takamaki surrendered and dropped the call. More came in, each new calling ID showing a new picture of the caller. All of them depicted them smiling brightly, even the seemingly uptight Niijima or the Yusuke guy.

How effing weird, to see himself laugh and joke with them. It was like having an identical twin and not knowing it until now, and now they had been somehow switched, and he was thrown in a life that didn't belong to him. It was driving him nuts, to put it lightly.

At last, the train came to a halt. Ichigaya… he'd only been here a couple of times, when he was a kid and mom had decided they could afford a trip to the fishing pond, just the two of them. She had taught him the basics of fishing, the importance of patience and a cool mind - yeah, maybe that particular lesson didn't stick with him too well, he had to admit - and told him all the fun shit that happened when she and her dad used to go on fishing trips of their own.

For someone who had trouble sitting still for longer than five seconds, he was peculiarly attracted to the activity. It was oddly calming, and the place was like a soothing balm for an usually hyperenergetic kid like him. He wouldn’t mind going out with a friend and laze around at the pond, chatting and cracking jokes while waiting for something to bite the bait. Old fashioned, perhaps, but it’d be cool.

Maybe, for his birthday he could…

Nah, what was he thinking. If he had to believe _those_ guys, he had no friends at school, not after the track team was disbanded and he was branded a traitor and hot blooded delinquent to be shunned by everyone. And those guys… well, it wasn’t like there was much of a bond with them, now, was it? Y’know, amnesia and all.

It had started to rain on the way here. Just a light drizzle, nothing too serious, he had run in far worse conditions. The short track to get to the pond was not going to be a problem.

What _was_ going to be a problem was the lone person standing by the piers, messy black hair plastered to his face in saggy curls and flushed beet red as though he had all but run his way over here, no fishing rod in sight. Only a phone in his hand, a call waiting to be picked up.

Ryuji was suddenly all too aware of his own phone buzzing.

Oh no. No, no, please _stop_.

“Wha- How…”

Akira dropped the call - Ryuji's phone immediately stopped ringing - and slipped it back into his pocket. He tilted his head, a lopsided smile that maybe wanted to look calming and charming quirking his lips upward.

"Had a feeling." he said with a shrug. "I knew I would never be able to catch up to you if you really wanted to bolt for it. So I just decided to go for a round to the places we used to hang out to, and I figured you would want to get as far as you could from Leblanc, hence here. A shot in the dark, really, but here we are."

He opened his arms in a surrendering manner and took a step forward, slow and careful, as though approaching a dangerous animal who could lash out the second he made a sudden move.

" _Stop it_."

Akira stopped dead in his tracks.

"What?"

He sounded surprised, hurt even. Ryuji shook his head and took a step back.

He was _tired_. Tired of all this nonsense. He had come in this place, sure that no one would ever _think_ it'd be the first location he'd run to, he hadn't ever told anyone of how he liked fishing, and here this guy was, effing reading his mind _again_ with the same ease he would read a book. Always knowing what Ryuji was about to do, what he was thinking, what he was gonna say. It was unnerving.

"Stop," he growled, carding a hand through his damp hair, only managing to get them even more spikier and messier in the process. "Stop doing that shit."

"Do what?"

He looked genuinely confused, which only served to further stoke his irritation to a even higher level. There was no way he wasn't doing this intentionally.

"You keep doing this _thing_ \- reading my mind so flawlessly… It really _pisses_ me off to no ends. What, is that one of your so called powers, too? Eff off with that shit! I don't like intruders in my head!"

"I…"

It was clear Akira was at a complete loss. Funny, for a so called Phantom Thief who claimed to be able to steal people's hearts. Admittedly, Ryuji's words had come out a lot harsher than he'd intended, but the point still stood.

"I'm not," Akira bravely tried again, slowly dropping his hands but still keeping them splayed in a calming manner and always in Ryuji's field of vision. His breath hitched and his lips trembled, as though he wanted to laugh and at the same time he was trying too hard not to break at the seams. "I'm not using _mind powers_ or anything, Ryuji. I just know you well enough to be able to guess your thoughts fairly well. That's all."

That… made sense, actually. Still, it really didn't help Ryuji feeling any better.

Because that was the core of the problem, wasn't it? Everyone kept saying they knew him so well, claiming how close they ~~used to be~~ were, but to him they were little more than strangers; all the crazy stuff they allegedly went through together just never happened for him. He was just a kid who liked running and fishing, and yet these guys were trying to convince him he'd quit running and start wreaking havoc on society for the heck of it.

And all the pictures, all the texts… It felt unreal, detached. As though they were from a different lifetime, a different person altogether he just happened to share a name and appearance with.

It wasn't him. It _wasn't him_.

"Ryuji," Akira's voice somehow reached him from very, very far away. Ryuji must have blanked out for a few seconds there, because Akira was suddenly in his face, a soothing hand rubbing circles on the back of his shoulders, and Ryuji hated how comforting the touch was, how it managed to calm him down from a full blown panic attack in just a couple of gentle and firm strokes. "Listen, can we just... talk? Just a little bit."

He was tempted, oh so tempted, to say no.

"...Yeah, I guess."

Akira looked visibly relieved, flashed him a tired smile that was just wide enough to make something churn uncomfortably in Ryuji's chest. It was pretty, but the picture of Akira laughing his ass off was still seared in the forefront of his mind, and this Akira just… couldn't compare.

Part of him wished he'd be able to see it, at some point. The other part knew it would never happen.

He begrudgingly let Akira lead him to a nearby bench. The drizzle had lifted off by now, though the cold metal was still drenched. Ryuji wasn't a fan of sitting his ass on cold and wet stuff in the middle of winter, but he guessed he had no real choice on the matter, not when Akira plopped himself on the left side of the bench with little no hesitation and was now looking up at him expectantly.

Ugh, _fine_.

He sat down as well, making a point to keep some space between them, even if he ended up half out of the bench and his balance was precarious at best. Akira didn’t comment on it, though the crease between his eyebrows deepened conspicuously.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to deal with, all at once, and I don’t blame you for feeling overwhelmed. We all should have been more tactful, instead of just dumping this mass of information onto you, and for that I apologize.”

He sounded genuine, so much that Ryuji was soon forced to avert his eyes or he knew he’d end up doing something he would regret later on. The electric feeling that had been lingering since this morning came back, a magnetic pull dragging him to Akira, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He wanted to stay mad a little more, damn it.

“It… was hard. To hear all of that.” Gosh, he sounded so _pathetic_. “I just don’t get how any of that happened. It makes no sense. It can’t make sense.”

He stood up again, suddenly unable to stand still any longer - in true Ryuji fashion - and kicked a pebble lying nearby. The rock darted across the air in a long and tall arc, and fell into the water with a soft plopping sound. They watched the ripples spread from the point the stone had broken the surface, a heavy silence hanging between them, stifling, suffocating.

“It’s not _fair._ ”

He had worked his butt off to get where he was. Poured effort, time, money, sweat and blood. And now he was supposed to believe all of that had amounted to nothing, all because of a douchebag teacher who didn’t like him?!?

“I know.” Akira said, and somehow Ryuji knew he did; he actually, truly, _got_ what Ryuji meant, and it felt so good, so liberating, to know Akira understood, that he was in Ryuji’s corner in this. “If it makes you feel any better, we managed to deal with him. No one else will suffer by his hands.”

It shouldn’t make him feel better, because even though the guy had finally got his comeuppance, that didn’t mean everything was magically fixed. Ryuji’s leg was still broken and subpar, his career still gone. His future still stolen.

But for some reason he did not understand, it did. Trust Akira to always know what to say to placate him. He nodded stiffly.

“Good.”

Silence fell again, charged with unspoken tension. Ryuji paced around, back and forth, back and forth, like a caged animal in desperate need of something to vent his frustration on, occasionally kicking some more pieces of gravels in the pond.

He carefully avoided to glance down, afraid of what - or who - he might see in his reflection.

To his credit, Akira never once spoke, never pressed him. He just watched Ryuji pace and struggle to give some semblance of order to his thoughts, refusing to move even when the biting, chilling wind picked up and it seemed like a proper downpour was to fall upon them, even when he was trembling from the cold, his fashionable turtleneck sweater clearly inadequate to fend off the winter air on its own. Like Ryuji, he had completely omitted to grab a coat on his way out.

Ah shit, now he was feeling guilty. If Akira came down with the flu it was totally Ryuji’s fault.

Oh well, it wasn’t like he had forced Akira to follow him around, or to stay here with him. The guy could up and leave whenever the hell he wanted.

Why he _hadn’t_ yet, that was the real question.

He stopped abruptly, his hands trembling at his sides, curled in tight fists, as he towered over Akira. Akira had to crane his neck upwards to look at him. His eyes were very pretty, indeed.

_...(Unreadable silver eyes peered through deep dark circles and bore into Ryuji’s, pinning him to the spot)..._

His mind flew back to the pictures in his phone, of an unguarded Akira laughing at Ryuji’s side, sometimes at the arcade, sometimes at the beach, sometimes in the attic above cafè Leblanc. They had been close, there was no doubt about that. But how close was close?

He was kind of afraid to find out. To find out this sort of future version of himself, this _twin_ of his, was even more different from him than he’d thought.

Akira kept looking up at him, unwavering and unflinching despite the sharp height difference. Even so, there was something strangely subdued, almost resigned, in the way his shoulders were hunched forward, in the heavy lidded eyes. A prayer that he knew would not be answered. It was like he was preparing to take a blow, and a massive one at that.

“ _Who_ are you?”

The question was out before Ryuji could stop it, and he regretted it instantly. It was not Akira’s fault if Ryuji was ambling in the dark like a fool, struggling to comprehend and accept the reality he’d been thrust into.

Perhaps, the real question to be asked was…

Who was _he_?

Akira didn’t flinch, didn’t react. His face was a mask of porcelain, white as a bone and just as cold.

But the _eyes_ , man. The eyes had a life on their own. Ryuji felt like he was sinking, drowning in them.

“Who do you want me to be?”

Texts sent late in the night, confessions in the dark. Three words that a sixteen-year-old shouldn’t be throwing out so easily, because once they were uttered they were all consuming, a blessing and a curse, and there was no going back.

The answer erupted to his lips, as though something was forcibly pushing it out of his chest where it had been hidden all this time.

Then Miyamoto-san’s voice echoed in his ears once again, and he froze.

_”High school crushes are just that - crushes. Nothing too important. Just forget it all and run forward.”_

A crush… was that all there was to it? Just a fling? A teenage experiment, just out of curiosity?

Maybe, maybe not. He didn’t know what Akira’s Ryuji was thinking at the time. He wasn’t him. Not anymore, perhaps he’d never been.

“I… I don’t know.”

It was a shitty answer, he could tell. But it was the best he could offer Akira right now. If he couldn’t be the Ryuji he wanted, at least he could be honest.

And maybe, if Akira’s sad, but undeniably fond, smile was any indicator, that was good enough for him.

“It’s fine, I can wait.”

He moved then, and it felt like he had aged centuries in the span of a few minutes. Slow and frail, as though he was struggling to keep himself together. Ryuji wanted to reach out, to steady him on his feet, because even if he hadn’t the same level of attachment to the boy he used to he was still a decent person, but did he have the right to, when he was the cause of all his woes?

He took a step back, gave Akira space to stand and stretch his long limbs.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

Akira made to extend a hand to him, as though expecting Ryuji to take it without any second thought, but seemed to change his mind halfway through. His arm fell limply to his side as he instead nodded to Ryuji to follow him. A friendly gesture, the kind of thing bros did all the time with no awkwardness, and nowhere near as intimate as holding hands. Would Ryuji have taken it, if Akira gave him a chance? He himself wasn’t so sure. Heck, he wasn’t sure of _anything_ at all, at this point.

Still, as he shoved his hands in his pocket and started walking, keeping a safe distance after Akira, neither too close nor too distant, one thing he was fairly convinced of.

He was going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm _trying_ not to use one liners, I swear T___T
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave any question or criticism that comes to mind! Just please be polite about it TwT
> 
> Thank you for reading and take care!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unexpectedly quick chapter! It's a lot shorter than the usual, admittedly. The original plan was to include a couple more scenes, but the first segment got out of hand and the chapter would have ended up exceedingly long, and it would have lost a lot of its emotional impact. Speaking of, what would be best? Shorter, but quicker chapters, or meatier but slower? Of course a lot depends on inspiration and pacing, but I'd like to hear from you all what you prefer. I always have a hard time balancing length and time lol
> 
> Anyhow, a whole chapter in Akira's POV hot damn!! Could be better, but I still had loads of fun with it lol let me know your thoughts.

It was rather quiet.

Usually, there was no stopping Ryuji's proverbial motormouth once it got going, which, to be fair, wasn't a hard condition to meet. It was just how Ryuji was, and if at the beginning that loquacity and complete disregard of personal space used to make Akira quite uncomfortable, he had soon learned to accept and adapt to it, to the point it quickly stopped being something to tolerate and became an endearing quirk to treasure. There was no space for ominous or exceedingly gloomy thoughts when Ryuji filled the silence with his engulfing, radiant presence, chasing away the awful circumstances that had brought them together with a joke and a laugh. Just teenagers being teenagers, barely more than kids, having fun together and enjoying life, while saving the world on the side.

Being a Phantom Thief - and the leader at that - hadn’t really made Akira much less taciturn than he’d always been. He moved with more purpose than before, without second guessing, but that didn’t mean he had become a chatterbox all of a sudden. Sure enough, he could string up a conversation just fine - and sometimes had to, to achieve his goals - but if he could spare himself the trouble to talk every three seconds, he usually took the chance. That was another reason he appreciated Ryuji’s company so much; he filled the potentially awkward silence as easy as breathing, just by being himself, always talking and chatting about this and that, always asking opinions and making everyone at ease and comfortable in the group. Sure, he and Morgana had had their rough patches where friendly jabs kinda got out of control at some point, but even that had been solved with a proper talk after the Okumura fiasco had finally settled down.

Two halves of a whole, complementing each other oh so perfectly, Ryuji helping easing Akira out of his silences, and Akira providing a focus to channel all of Ryuji’s seemingly boundless energies to a goal. Even in the rare cases they were quiet, the silence had always been comfortable, companionable, and Akira had never really felt under pressure to keep the conversation going at all costs. It was just Ryuji, and it was alright to be himself in his presence. No wonder they had hit it off so well.

But now, well… not that much. Now there was a constant silence hanging heavy between them, tense and filled with too many things that had been said and even more left unsaid. It was like a cloud, dark and threatening, looming over the two of them, following them everywhere they went, lightning crackling in the distance. One mistake, and it would crash upon them with the violence of a typhoon.

He threw a quick glance at Ryuji; he was following him, half a step behind him, close enough for the people outside to guess they were together, and at the same time far enough to look detached, two different people with nothing in common who just happened to share a path for a little while. Strangers, drifting away a little more with every out of synch step, always at arm’s length.

After all the easy touches Ryuji dispensed without even thinking, all the pats on the back, all the hugs… Akira would be lying if he claimed this distance didn’t hurt.

He wanted to reach out, to grab Ryuji by the arm and gently pull him in, until they were on the same level and their step was even and they didn’t even need to think about it twice, to physically pierce through this wall of silence and blurred lines.

But Ryuji was distant, his eyes unfocused as he looked down at the concrete sliding past him, too distant for Akira to reach. He had wrapped the silence around himself, cocooned himself in it in lieu of armor, of mask, and it was too tightly coiled for Akira to even hope to unravel.

He pushed his hand back in his pocket. The silence expanded, pressing against his ears, sliding through the gaps between his ribs, crushing his lungs.

_Coward_ , Arsene’s voice - _his_ voice - hissed in his ears. Akira did not find it within himself to deny.

They boarded the train, just as quietly, the silence only broken for a fleeting moment when Akira asked Ryuji whether he had enough money to buy a ticket, and Ryuji nodded at Akira’s shoes. Even as they stood in the subway, face to face and with the substantial risk of toppling all over each other at every little bump of the overcrowded car, Ryuji still wouldn’t look at him, and though in reality there was less than a foot in between them, Akira felt like an entire ocean could fit in the distance keeping them apart. He hated this.

On the other hand, everyone else was suddenly way too close. He could feel every elbow nudging his ribs, every stray foot stepping on his toes, every little whisper buzzing in his ear like a bunch of mosquitoes, hovering about and biting into the flesh at the first distraction.

“Did you hear it? Shido-san has been admitted to the hospital.”

Akira felt his heart drop all the way down to his feet. Hospital? He didn't care one bit about Shido's well being, but if something happened to him before he had the chance to fess up and admit to his crimes to the general public...

“Oh my! What happened to him? Do you think it was the Phantom Thieves’ doing?”

“After that stunt on national tv the other day? It has to be them.”

“I knew it, a bunch of criminals and delinquents… like that boy over there. Who does he think he is, with that hair and attitude? What an eyesore.”

It took all Akira had not to turn around and give the woman who spoke a piece of his mind, and the feeling increased at least ten fold when Ryuji flinched, clearly hurt, his head hanging even lower than before. He could only watch as Ryuji passed a tentative hand through his bleached spikes and then fisted into them, tugging as though he wanted nothing more than to pull them out of his scalp by force.

Akira had always liked Ryuji's hair. It fit him like a glove; spiky rebellious hair that never stood the same twice in a row, dyed a bright boisterous yellow that shouted in everyone's face. A loud, booming 'Remember me, goddamnit!!', and honestly, Akira wouldn't have it any other way. His mind wasn't even capable to conjure up the image of a dark-haired, bowl cut Ryuji, of a Ryuji who blended in the crowd. It felt wrong, a disservice to his character.

He loved it. Seeing Ryuji hating it was more painful than he was willing to admit.

He gently wrapped his hand around Ryuji's wrist. Ryuji started, wide eyed and confused - bright and wet, and Akira was drowning in unshed tears and spilled blood - but he still relented and allowed Akira to gently pull his hand away so it could no longer inflict damage on his skull.

"I think it looks nice. It suits you."

Ryuji's lips trembled, but he said nothing, only looked away as quick as they made eye contact. He let his arm drop, and though for a breathless second Akira was tempted to keep holding onto him, he quickly decided against it. It was already awkward and difficult as it was, for both Ryuji and himself in tow, he didn't need to go and actively make it worse by overstepping his boundaries and focus the scorn of the crowd on themselves. Not that he cared about them to begin with, but it was obvious Ryuji did, and Akira could take a hit for the team, after all.

So he let go, and if he felt a lingering spark run along his nerves, making all his hair stand on end, he pretended he didn't notice.

* * *

Ryuji walked slowly.

It wasn't like it was a bother to Akira, he didn't mind the quieter pace from time to time - unlike Ryuji, his energy reserves weren't nearly boundless and his life was hectic enough that he enjoyed when he _didn't_ have to run around like a lunatic, trying to fit everything in days that were twentyfour hours too short for his needs - but it was definitely off. His posture was different too: his back was still hunched forward, perhaps even deeper than usual, but he had lost the open step, the stylishly slouched attitude. He just looked like a lost kid who was trying hard not to break in tears.

The limp in his bad leg was more evident than ever.

Akira wondered - not without a painful stab of guilt knifing him right in the heart - how he had not noticed it sooner. Obviously he was not the only one who could hide pain under a smiling mask. He couldn't quite believe he had grown so conceited and self complacent to ever believe that. He, of all people, should have known better than to take Ryuji - or anyone, for that matter - at face value. He should _be_ better.

“You really didn’t have to, y’know. Walk me home like that, I mean.”

Akira shrugged. Ryuji’s tone was stiff, guarded even, but he’d take that over the suffocating silence that had been pushing them apart this whole time.

“I know I didn’t. But I wanted to.”

Ryuji let out an odd noise, half a snort half a groan. The _for real_ was unspoken, but did not go unheeded. It was funny and at the same time oh so cruel, how normality was just a breath away, right beyond their grasp. It would be easy to slide back into their normal routines, if only they could gather the courage to take the leap. It would be easy, if the gap hadn’t been so deep Akira couldn’t see the end of the chasm, if only a single faux pax, the tiniest miscalculation, didn’t result in certain death.

Once again, he was thrown in a situation where he could not afford a single mistake, and while the stakes were nowhere as high as what he’d previously faced, he still could feel the pressure piling up on him, pushing him down.

“You’re a weird one.”

He could hear the ghost of a laugh, faint, barely there, but definitely present. Akira grinned.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Another snort, the laughter was stronger, breathier, though somewhat mirthless. Very un-Ryuji. Akira wasn’t sure he liked it.

“It _really_ wasn’t, you know?”

“I know, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Why, though?”

It was barely louder than a whisper, to the point Akira wasn't sure it was directed at him or not.

"What do you mean?"

He threw a glance at Ryuji from the corner of his eyes, and only now noticed the other boy had stopped walking a few moments earlier, and was now staring down to the pavement beneath his feet, scowling at the tips of his shaggy sneakers. A faint blush tinged the top of his cheeks and ears light pink. Akira stopped as well.

"It's just…" Ryuji began, his voice quivering. He looked like he was physically wrestling with his thoughts. "You're in this too. Doesn't it make you angry? At all?"

He could see his point, to some extent, and he couldn't find it within himself to outright deny it. He was angry, obviously, or perhaps frustrated was a better word for it. He was just tired of working to burrow a space for himself to exist, only for fate to sweep in and steal it away in a matter of seconds.

But he knew that wasn't really what Ryuji meant. He could see it in the tension in his shoulders, in the slightest of flinches when Akira turned around to face him.

"I'm not angry with you, if that's what you're wondering."

Ryuji's head shot up, eyes flying wide in blatant disbelief. Bingo.

"But, you and I- we're not… I _can't_ -"

No, of course he couldn't return Akira's feelings, not any more. Akira had already come to that conclusion on his own this morning, after that one charged moment Akira had thought they were about to kiss and maybe everything was going to be fine for once, all pieces of the jigsaw finally sliding back into their proper place, only for a gust of wind to blow it all away when Ryuji pulled away, scared and confused by what was happening.

He didn’t blame him, really, and neither he was angry with him. It wasn’t like Ryuji was really breaking up with him all of a sudden, like it happened in those overly dramatic tv series aimed at teenage girls. After all, if Akira wanted to be technical, Ryuji wasn’t even in any position to break up with him to begin with. Can’t really stop feeling for someone when there was no feeling in the first place, right?

He wasn’t angry, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to throw a hissy fit and start yelling recriminations at Ryuji. It wasn’t his fault.

Somehow, though, acknowledging it did nothing to ease the pain.

“I know. It’s alright.”

It really wasn’t, though. And from the frown on Ryuji’s face, he shared the sentiment in full. How ironic.

“Bullshit. You know it’s not.”

Despite it all, Akira smiled at that. He couldn’t help it, not when he remembered all too well the last time they had a similar argument, and Ryuji said the same thing to him when he was desperately trying to pretend everything was all fine and dandy after spending days in that hellish interrogation room. The bruises were well on their way to fade by now, but the delicate care Ryuji went out of his way to put in use whilst helping him dressing his wounds in the days that followed was still seared deeply at the forefront of his brain.

Not even a month ago. Gosh, it felt like a whole lifetime since then. Had it not for the lingering, dull ache in his ribs, he would wonder whether it had happened at all.

“Maybe.” He shrugged again. The corners of his eyes were stinging suspiciously. “But it’s not important right now. We have more pressing issues to deal with. This can wait.”

But time did not wait for anything or anyone. The clock was ticking, unperturbed and uncaring of anyone’s plight, and Akira was all too aware of the cold December air setting his lungs on fire whenever he inhaled too sharply, of the freezing raindrops hitting the tip of his nose. His probation year was almost up, a decision had to be taken, and quick. He had no time to wait it out and see what happened.

Maybe - and he instantly hated himself for even _thinking_ along these lines - it was a good thing Ryuji lost his memory. Perhaps it would be his salvation, at the end of the line. The less regret, the less attachment to what had been, the better off he’d be when they had to part ways. Of course Akira would remember, treasure every little moment they stole for themselves deep in his heart, and perhaps he’d be the only one left to suffer for it, but alas, it was better than damning the both of them to a bitter awakening, wasn’t it?

Ryuji didn’t look convinced. For a moment Akira thought he’d start arguing that hell no, this bs was going to be resolved here and now, as he’d have done in the past, but apparently whatever Ryuji wanted to say was giving him a harder time than he’d thought, and after a moment of visible inner struggle he eventually threw the towel in. His frown tilted upwards in a pained cringe, and his back slouched forward once again. The epitome of defeat.

“Fine. I just… don’t want to think about it anymore.”

They didn’t really speak much after that. Soon enough they found themselves in an area Akira wasn’t all that familiar with, so he slowed his pace, allowing Ryuji to take over and lead the way. If Ryuji noticed, or if he felt hurt in his pride that Akira had to hold back so much to allow him to lead, he didn’t make any mention of it. Akira was fine going slow, he didn’t mind. The longer it took for them to reach Ryuji’s apartment, the better. He had the feeling something would irremediably change between them the moment he let Ryuji out of his sight, and despite the confident smile and quiet attitude he had grown so used to display he wasn’t sure he was all that ready for that.

Another stab of pain ran through him as he remembered how once Ryuji had said his mom wanted to meet Akira, one day, perhaps for a family lunch. He doubted she’d want to have much to do with him any longer, after she found out what happened to her son while he was under Akira’s responsibility.

He wished he had more time. He wished he could have enjoyed the little moments, savored the small things as what they truly were, rather than for their practical benefit in the Metaverse. When did Akira stop being Akira, and only served as a vessel for Joker? He couldn’t tell.

“We’re here.”

The place Ryuji stopped in front of was the epitome of nondescript. A tall, grey building with many tiny square windows, just enough to let the slimmest of sunrays in during the right season, with tacky plastic-looking curtains to shield some of them. He had no idea which was Ryuji’s apartment, and the thought made him more uncomfortable than it should have.

“Oh, good.” he stopped beside Ryuji, leaving a little space between them. Ryuji did nothing to try and close it. “I suppose you can take it from here, right?”

He wanted to follow him in, to personally make sure he was safe and sound. Ryuji nodded stiffly.

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

More silence, and Ryuji wasn’t looking at him again. His leg was bouncing like mad.

“About your clothes-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Akira cut him off easily. With everything that was going on, a couple of shirts and a pair of pants were definitely at the very bottom of his list of stuff to be worried about. “Keep them as long as you need. I’ll get Ann to deliver your uniform at school once I get it washed tonight. You do have a spare one for tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Ryuji bristled in confusion. “You’re not coming to school tomorrow?”

Surely Akira just imagined the flash of disappointment in Ryuji’s eyes. “Not just yet. I’ll probably have to wait one more week before I can walk around freely again. It’s still a little dangerous for me to show up at school.”

“But you’re here now.”

This time the concern was unmistakable. It would be devastatingly adorable, if it didn’t twist the metaphoric knife in the wound so effectively. He smiled and leaned back, careful to hide his shaking hands in the depths of his pockets.

“Some things are worth risking everything for.”

Oh wow, that had come out way cheesier than he’d thought. Normal Ryuji would probably snort and laugh and call him a sap, because holy shit, who could ever say such a sickeningly sweet thing and keep a straight face, right.

Ryuji, this Ryuji, snorted. “Dude, what the hell was that about? How can you even say such a sickeningly sweet thing and keep a straight face?”

Close enough. Good enough. It felt like the distance had narrowed down a little, the abyss had become a little less daunting. He grinned.

“Goddamnit, but you’re so _weird_ , no wonder I-”

Ryuji stopped abruptly, his hand flying over his mouth as though not entirely sure the words had come from him. An intense blush painted his face a bright red, making his bleached hair even more eye catching and bright by contrast.

“Sorry,” he muttered quietly. “Wasn’t really thinking..”

Typical Ryuji. The familiarity of it was at least oddly comforting.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

It wasn’t, and he kinda did. Old Ryuji would have been able to read him like an open book and tell him off for lying so poorly in his face. New Ryuji’s eyes skimmed over his concealed hands, the tilted head, as though he intuitively knew where he had to look to call out Akira’s bullshit but couldn’t catch the finer details. Perhaps he didn’t want to.

The bout of hilarity that had seemingly shortened the gap had been short lived, quick and unpredictable like a summer rain. In its wake the silence spread and filled every new little crevice it could find.

“Well, I suppose I’ll go now.”

“Y-yeah, it’s for the best.”

Well, his cue couldn’t get any clearer than that. He shrugged again and took a step back. Then another, then another again. He didn’t know what he was expecting, what he was hoping for. Maybe for Ryuji to stop him, to reach out for him, to invite him upstairs, to let him in. Obviously, exactly none of those scenarios happened.

“Alright, see you around then. Feel free to text me whenever you like.”

He spun on his heels without really waiting for an answer that wouldn’t come.

Or so he believed.

“Wait, dude! I mean, Akira!”

His heart nearly stopped right there and then. It felt like aeons ago since he last time Ryuji had properly called him by his name. In the absolute mayhem of these days, he forgot how comforting it could be.

“Yeah?”

Ryuji was still blushed beet red - seriously, he was adorable - but he looked fairly determined for one who could burst up in flames at any given moment.

“Will… will I see you again?”

Maybe he should say no, maybe he should just blend away in the faceless crowd, just another shadow with no say or idea for its own. Maybe he should be the responsible one of the two and distance himself, so when the strings came loose and the bridges were cut Ryuji wouldn’t fall as hard.

Maybe.

Or maybe not.

“I’ll be staying and working at Leblanc the whole time,” he said, almost against his better judgment. Joker sometimes had quite the knack for taking over when Akira wasn’t expecting it. “I’m always free to hang out with a _dear friend_.”

The blush on Ryuji’s face made it all worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akira is a depressed little sappy bean. Probably too much to be iic but hey, I tried TwT
> 
> Forgot to mention: it's the sunday before election day, an exact week before Shido confesses on tv. Just to clear up the timeline (uber lol, I manage to eff up the timeline even when the game provides a whole year long and detailed calendar, holy moly)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh I hate this chapter. It's choppy, stilted, and the more I tried to fix it the worse it came out. So I just yoloed at the end lol
> 
> btw, just to be safe, I'd like to point out Ryuji isn't a bigot. He's just a confused kid with a short temper and anger issues who sometimes blows up and says shit he doesn't mean. He's a good kid, I swear.

Ryuji’s heart was hammering wildly against his ribs, so hard it almost hurt, as he made his way upstairs. Everything was the same: the same old grey and stained walls, the rickety railing that felt like it was seconds away from just giving way every time he leaned on it too heavily, the elevator that had been out of service for the better part of these last three years and that no one ever bothered to fix.

Everything was the same. Or so it seemed. Or so he hoped.

His knee hurt with every step of the way, the impact ricocheting like a bullet on his spine every time he lifted and placed his foot down. Had this stairway always been so steep? He couldn’t remember.

Still, his knee hurt, but it was nothing compared to the looks he was getting by the occasional passerby.

Or rather, lack of looks. He knew these guys, he had been living in this shitty condo almost his whole life. He remembered being on good terms with the neighbors, even being friends with the guys who had a kid around his age. They sometimes would hang out together, to watch a movie or shit like that. It was fun.

Now, no one would meet his eye. They would just push past him without a word, huffing slightly when he was taking too long and hogging up the stairs, only to run past as soon as Ryuji tried to squish himself against the wall and make space. No lingering look, no acknowledgment, no concern for his well being even when he was blatantly limping and struggling to keep himself standing upright.

And he would just be left there, left behind, watching them go on, and wondering where it had all gone wrong.

Getting to the fifth floor seemed to take forever. Ryuji had half an idea to go complain to whoever was in charge of this place to fix that damn elevator once and for all. Not that it’d help much: he was just a kid, and one with a bad rep at that. No one would ever pay him any mind, and mom had a shitton of other stuff to do and worry about even without him adding on it, thank you very much.

Ah, finally, there we go. It seemingly took ages, but he was finally there. Now he just had to walk down the corridor, third door on the left and…

He was already standing in front of the door in question, key already in his hand and ready to be pushed in, when a sudden doubt slammed into him with the violence of a charging bull, and he froze.

What if they had moved out, during this past year? What if mom finally managed to get a better job and leave this ratty place she always hated, and he didn’t remember?

What if he opened that door and nothing was as he had left it. No mom dozing off on the couch, no comfort in the safety of home.

Was this still home? He didn’t know anymore.

For some reason, he wished he had followed Akira back at Leblanc.

No, no, what the eff was he saying. He really needed to get a grip and stop whining like a little kid. This was home, this was where he had lived as far as he remembered, this was the place he belonged to. No cozy attics above cafes with charming strangers trying to convince him he was a different person than he was.

The key slid in the hole with no effort. His hand trembled as he twisted it in, two, three rounds, as always. The door clicked innocently, and he pushed it open as quietly as possible, feeling strangely like a thief breaking in his own home.

The tiny hall he found himself in was just like how remembered it: dingy, dark, with grey wallpaper that was slowly breaking down here and there, almost completely empty save for the shoe rack by the door and the couple of potted plants squeezed in the corner to try and make it more warm and welcoming, except the fact that despite all of mom's nearly obsessive care there just wasn't enough sunlight filtering in from outside, and the leaves were all dry and yellowish.

It was sad. It was familiar. It was as it was meant to be.

~~Is it really?~~

He nearly jumped out of his skin, as though something - or _someone_ \- had just zapped him hard with a taser or some shit. What the hell was that voice? And why did it sound so eerily like his own, but lower and distorted?

Perfect, now he was really starting to go insane. Oh, _eff_ it all.

He swung the door closed behind him, somewhat relishing in the loud slam and the weak whining of the unoiled pivots. It was a familiar noise, unlike that unearthly voice whispering in his ears.

Even if it kinda was, and it was really freaking him out.

“Hello? Mom?”

Hurried steps flurried from where the kitchen was. A moment later, a woman emerged from behind the corner.

_Mom._

“Ryuji! You’re home early!”

It was mom, for sure. He’d recognize that bright smile everywhere. He’d been told countless times he had his mom’s eyes and mouth, and he’d always been proud of it.

And yet, as welcome and relieving of a sight mom was, Ryuji felt a surge of uneasiness rise up. There was something off. It was like one of those games where you had to spot the light differences between two nearly identical pictures. Something was wrong, but for the life of him he couldn’t put his finger on _what_.

Then she came closer, and he finally noticed it. Her hair was shorter now than the last time he’d seen her, the frizzy ends that danced on the edge of her jawline told tales of a drastic haircut that hadn’t been taken care of for too long. Several strands were now stained silver despite her still relatively young age, a match with the darker shadows and the faintest crow’s feet lining up the corner of her eyes when she smiled too much.

She was… older.

A whole year of his life, just _gone_.

And perhaps he looked as sick as he was feeling, because mom’s smile dimmed down severely.

“Ryuji? What’s wrong?”

He swallowed. He’d always told his mom everything, since he was a kid. He had never seen the point in lying to her, as she knew how to read him like a book and would just bust him in under a minute regardless. And then again, why would he ever lie to her? She was his mom, but also his best friend, the one who always sticked with him even when she could have taken the easier way out and save herself a lot of trouble by giving him away for adoption or something like that when that scumbag of his father finally left. She was the one who always encouraged him to give his best in whatever he was set out to do, the one who always made sure to tell him how proud she was of her little thunder dragon, even when she struggled to make ends meet.

But now… the words got stuck in his throat, suffocating him. He was a Phantom Thief, a wanted criminal, the very last thing he remembered his mom wanting him to be. He didn’t think his past self would have been so unbelievably stupid to go and tell her that he had willingly joined a life of crime, no matter how apparently justifiable these crimes were. He didn’t know whether she knew he had gotten his leg all effed up and his career ruined before it began, making all her efforts prior to that null and void. He didn’t know if he had ever told her he apparently liked boys and girls alike.

He didn’t know her anymore, and it was overwhelming.

“Sorry,” he choked out, his breath short and ragged as though he had just run a mile in a single go without stopping once. “Not feeling well. I need to-”

He hurried down the hallway, where the small restroom was located, and slammed the door behind him.

He barely made it to the toilet before his stomach decided it was time at last to empty itself in a single, powerful heave.

It was horrible; his whole body quaked and his bones shattered and his insides were ripped to shreds as he bowled over the toilet, holding on the seat for dear life, the acrid stink of bile and sweat stinging his nose and burning the back of his throat. He heaved and heaved, struggling to breathe in between, his face quickly growing uncomfortably hot and sticky with sweat and tears he didn’t even realize he was shedding.

Holy shit, he was a _mess_.

“Ryuji?”

Busy as he was trying to expel his own soul through vomiting, Ryuji had failed to realize the door had creaked open and mom had sneaked in, quiet and light footed as a thief. Ah, fitting. He would have laughed if it wasn’t so hard to even breathe, and if mom hadn’t been staring at him with such worry on her round face.

She kneeled beside him - he really wanted to tell her not to bother, she’ll get dirty, but his voice was nowhere to be found - and grabbed a clean towel from a nearby drawer. She dabbed the side of his face, and he had to physically restrain himself from just diving headfirst into her arms.

“Ryuji,” she called him again softly, soothing, despite the terror in her eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he lied and goddamnit, the lie tasted worse than vomit itself. “Just ate some weird shit at the cafè. I’m fine.”

She kept cleaning him up, carding her dainty fingers through his sweat-plastered hair, kept pulling it backwards, away from his eyes. He wanted her to stop it, he wasn’t a kid anymore who needed to be cleaned and coddled anymore, but her touch was so refreshing, so soothing, he didn’t have the strength to pull away from it.

“Did… did something happen between you and Akira-kun?”

He jolted backwards, almost falling on his ass in doing so.

“ _What?_ ”

She looked quite flustered all of a sudden, her cheeks turning a bright red in a matter of mere seconds.

“I-I don’t mean to pry, I swear. You never said anything on the matter, I just assumed - It’s obvious he means a lot to you…”

He almost couldn't hear her over the sound of his heart thundering in his ears, of the wave of panic rising up and quickly submerging him until all went fuzzy and blurred.

Obvious. It was _that_ obvious. To all, except for him.

"There is _nothing_ ," shit, he was actually trembling. "There is nothing… like _that_... between us."

Her eyes softened, she braved a smile he couldn't find the strength to face.

"Ryuji, sweetie, it's okay. There is nothing wrong with-"

"There is _nothing!!_ "

He didn't immediately realize he'd shouted out loud, nor how he had jumped on his feet in a split second - had he always been _that_ agile? Or was this new physical prowess yet another aspect of himself he didn't know he possessed? - not until he found himself staring down at the cowering figure of his mom, eyes blown wide in fear and concern, her hand still extended to try and reach him, as it was before he jumped away from her.

"It's nothing like that," he repeated, his voice coming out more like a feral growl than a proper human speech, just like dad when he was drunk and angry. "Why won't you people just get it?!?"

She flinched when his voice raised once again and it bounced off the tiny room's tiled walls, creating the illusion of countless invisible Ryujis yelling in the distance. The distortion made his head hurt again, and he couldn't shake off the feeling he heard it before. He raised his trembling hands and threaded them through his hair and pulled, pulled, _pulled_ until he felt the telltale prickly feeling of strands being uprooted, of dry ends splintering like hay in his grasp. He scrunched his eyes closed.

"Stop making assumptions… stop judging me without even knowing me!"

A strangled sob broke the silence, soon followed by the softest of touches closing around his wrist and gently prying his hands off. A familiar gesture, tender, loving, and for the second time that day it left Ryuji at loss for words.

Shit, he made her cry. Again.

"I… I'm sorry, Ma, I didn't mean-"

 _I didn't mean to be like dad_ was what he couldn't force out of his throat. He instead choked and wheezed as tears started to well up in his eyes too and she enveloped him in a her arms. He had long overcome her in height, but it was startling to find out how much, now that he could easily rest his chin on the top of her head if he wanted. He must have had a final growth spurt recently.

But, surreal as it was, the stark gap did nothing to prevent him from all but melting in her arms. His legs trembled and buckled, and he would have fallen face first if she hadn't been there to support him, his one rock among the storm, strong and unmovable. Her hands are gentle as they threaded through his hair, drawing soothing circles on his scalp, a far cry from the ruthless pulling he had subjected himself earlier.

"It's alright, Ryu."

It really wasn't, he wanted to bite back. He couldn't find the air to speak. None of this was alright, and he was tired of people looking at him and wishing he was somebody else.

But her touch was magic, sucking away all the fight in him, and couldn't find in himself to deny. He just nodded.

"Yeah."

He wondered whether he dreamed the skull shaped mask staring back at him from the mirror.

* * *

By the time Akira was back at Leblanc, lunchtime had already come and gone. It didn't concern him too much, as he was definitely not in the mood for eating - he'd just throw up later anyway, so why bother at all - but he did hope the others had heeded his advice and regrouped at the cafè and maybe had something nice to fill their stomachs. Him being in a bad mood didn't mean they all had to suffer through his unhealthy coping mechanisms as well, after all.

He could almost hear Ryuji scold him and trying to drag him to Ogikubo by force. Hell, he could almost _taste_ the overwhelming spice of the ginger Ryuji liked piling on and on all over his plate.

He couldn't really tell whether the stinging at the back of his throat came from reminiscing all that ginger or from the abysmal sense of loss he was stubbornly trying to push back. If only it was the ginger. He wouldn't mind subjecting himself to a second wave of spice assault if it meant having Ryuji back with him, laughing and joking and just being his usual, adorably dork self. Not even a day had passed, and already he was missing Ryuji like a limb.

 _Phantom pain_ , Takemi's voice echoed in his head once more, and his stomach gave a dangerous lurch. Quite the fitting, if not unsettling, name indeed.

Was it phantom pain this morning, when Ryuji pushed him away the first time? And was that what had made Akira's brain shortcircuit so hard and nearly made him kiss Ryuji right there and then, if Morgana hadn't - wisely - intervened?

He could still feel the tingling sensation on his lips, the smell of ozone in his nose, the feeling that he was being pulled in, sucked in like a black hole, and there was nothing he could do to break his fall. He had completely lost control of himself back there, the composure and aplomb that had landed him the leader position in their group suddenly gone, like a candle being snuffed out in a single gust of wind.

It scared him, to be honest.

But a tiny, tiny part of him found it incredibly exciting at the same time.

He hurried his step and rushed the last stretch of road that still separated him from the cafè, all the while pointedly avoiding looking into any of the many windows he passed. He didn't need to see the familiar mask laugh at him, taunt him from behind the glass.

 _"Coward_ and _pathetic."_

He had no retort for that.

Something small and wet hit his forehead, then another and another again. In a matter of moments it was raining cats and dogs once again and _of course_ he hadn't thought to grab an umbrella in his hurry to chase Ryuji.

It wasn't thus a surprise he was drenched from head to toe when he finally managed to drag himself through Leblanc's door, sogging wet to the point he could feel the water seep all the way down to his bones and joints and leaving puddles similar to tiny lakes on the floor in his wake.

What did come to a surprise was the all too familiar figure Makoto and the others were huddled around, seemingly hanging by their lips.

Akira's heart did a backflip in his chest. Sae's presence, although welcome per se, usually meant bad business.

"Ah," Sae was the first to notice the bell chiming as he made his way in. "There you are. I was hoping to talk to you."

She offered him a smile that wasn't quite warm, but not cold either. He supposed he could appreciate the effort she was clearly putting in, if nothing else. He shrugged and smiled back.

"Well, you've caught me now, miss prosecutor."

"Smug as always. Can't say it doesn't add to your charm, I'll admit. Fine," her amused grin vanished as quick as it came. "As I was saying, I'm sure you heard the news. Shido has been admitted to the hospital this morning under the guise of a non otherwise specified collapse."

So it was true. He didn't like where this was going.

"His secretary claims there is nothing to be worried about and this hospitalization is only a precautionary measure," Makoto promptly intervened, as serious and grim as her sister. The resemblance was striking indeed. "However-"

"The timing is too perfect. The general public will panic and jump to conclusions." Haru's voice was barely louder than a whisper.

Yusuke nodded gravely. "Indeed. They will undoubtedly try to pin this on us as well."

Not that they needed to twist themselves over for that, if the woman from earlier and her scathing comments were anything to go by. A tarnished reputation was not easily mended like that in the eye of the people, no matter the amount of evidence pointing otherwise. Unfortunately, Akira was all too acquainted with that.

Ann twirled the end of her pigtail between her fingers, her face pale and taut.

"What do we do now?"

He could feel their eyes piercing into him, hooks sinking into his flesh in the desperate attempt to find something solid to hold on to. He couldn’t afford himself to crumble now.

But dear gods, the void at his side was making it hard to stay tethered to reality. Like a missing leg, and it was all he could do to try and keep himself upright with what was left. He shuffled, shoved his hands in his pockets. Keep it cool, take your time.

“We do nothing.” he said with a confidence he didn’t really have. “We’ve done everything by the book. If he was foolish and coward enough to put himself in danger trying to stop us, that’s on him.”

“That’s true, but won’t they jump on the chance to arrest us all?”

It was Sae who answered Makoto this time, offering Akira some much needed reprieve. “They aren’t in any position to arrest anyone at the present moment, not without exposing themselves in front of the people right before the election. They will not take action, for now at least.”

The sharp edge to her voice was blatant to Akira’s ears, and he was forced to break eye contact, focusing instead on the pin glinting happily on her lapel. He hadn’t forgotten her moniker, the promise of impending doom looming over his shoulder.

How ironic that he had started his probation year, cast away and rejected by all he ever held dear, and wished it would be over soon, and now he was begging for more time, clinging desperately to every minute he was given. One more, than another, and then another again. When had he grown so greedy, he wondered.

“We will wait and see what happens next. There’s not much we can do about it anyway.”

Silence fell, a poisonous mist slithering among them, keeping them apart, choking them from within. No one dared to speak and breach the distance, too scared of the answer they might find. Akira really wished Ryuji was here. It was easier to forget they were little more than scared kids with issues when he and his one minded enthusiasm was there to dispel the silence.

“Actually, there is one more thing I’d like to talk about,” of all people, Sae was the first to speak again, polarizing the whole group’s attention on herself. She was hesitant, almost fearful, and Akira instinctively felt all his hair stand on end. Anything that made Sae Niijima so unsure was definitely bad news, and he had the nagging feeling this was the real reason she had come all the way here to begin with.

“Yes?”

She sighed and crossed her arms, as though trying to steel herself for the unpleasant conversation that was sure to follow.

“Akechi is missing since yesterday night.”

The words were like a shot in the dark, a bullet fired behind a wall they could not break down. They hit their mark, tore their way through his flesh, carving a path for themselves with brute force, leaving him staggering and struggling to breathe. With the mess left behind by Ryuji's amnesia, Akechi's fate had slipped his mind. Now that sickening feeling punched him in the stomach once again, the tantalizing _what if, what if_ whispering in his ear.

He should be glad, his most cynical, most logical part of him reasoned, and it was with no little surprise he noticed it sounded suspiciously like Akechi himself. One enemy less, and such a dangerous one at that. He got what he deserved.

Two peas in a pod, two sides of the same coin. Inevitably drawn to one another and yet destined to fight until one met their end by the other's hand. He shivered at the thought of what he could have become, had he not met his friends when he did. He would probably be dead by now.

“The police has yet to make it official, most likely to avoid pouring fuel on the growing restlessness of the masses. Believe it or not, he’s almost as popular and revered as Shido himself. Still, considering the timing, I figured you might know something.”

She looked tired, and disillusioned enough to know there was no happy ending to this tale. She was just asking for a confirmation for something she already knew was true, as ugly as it was.

“He’s gone. He didn’t make it out of the Palace.”

A little farther away, Haru sniffled quite loudly, holding Morgana even closer to herself as the cat purred softly in the crook of her elbows where he was comfortably nestled. Nonetheless, her eyes were dry.

“I see,” Sae said after a beat of silence. It was impossible to tell whether she was saddened by the news, her face betrayed no emotion at all. Still, Akira noticed her hands were fisted tightly over the fabric of her sleeves, to the point her knuckles had turned white from the strain and lack of blood. “I can’t say I’m surprised. I had the feeling something like that had happened. I guess it was inevitable.”

She sighed again and checked her wristwatch.

“I’m sorry, I have to go now. The PO is in total disarray at the moment, but they might notice my absence. I will keep in touch.”

Akira nodded and stepped aside to allow her to pass. She seemingly hesitated for a moment, lingering on the doorway as though trying to come up with something to say, but then she just shook her head, grabbed the dark blue umbrella resting in the racket by the door and in a matter of seconds she vanished behind the thick blanket of rain.

No one dared to speak for a while, still struggling to process the enormity of what had happened in such a short span of time. Honestly, Akira just wanted to go to sleep and possibly never wake up again.

"Well, that was a thing," Futaba said after a while. She was sitting over the counter, her legs swinging back and forth in a nervous pattern. "Doesn't really bode well for us, does it?"

"Akechi's disappearance will make things even more complicated," Sojiro added darkly. "The lady isn't joking when she says the public loves him. He was a true celebrity. People won't take kindly to his loss."

"We didn't kill him. It was Shido's cognition of Akechi himself the one who did it."

Sojiro turned to Yusuke, his eyebrows pinched up in a somber, almost sad, way.

"I know you didn't, kid. But people will believe what they want, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"He saved us," Haru whimpered softly, "He may have been our fiercest enemy, but at the end, when it mattered the most, he sacrificed himself to save us."

An uncomfortable silence settled upon them. Akira could hear the faint echo of the bullet firing off in the far distance.

Makoto crossed her arms, and once again Akira was acutely reminded of Sae. "Well, there is little we can do about it now. More importantly, how did it go with Ryuji?"

He shrugged. "As well as you could expect."

"No progress at all? Did you, you know, _talk_ about…"

Yusuke trailed off meaningfully, and it didn't take a genius to understand the point he was trying to make. Akira would have found his discomfort at touching this delicate topic fairly hilarious - he knew Ryuji would have laughed his ass off and spent the rest of the day engaging Akira in obnoxious PDA just to get on Yusuke's nerves - if the whole situation wasn't so depressing. He just shrugged again.

"He came to his own conclusion. I don't want to overwhelm it too much. He needs some space and time to process what's going on."

Sojiro nodded. "A wise choice. You've matured, kid."

"But, what about you?"

Ann's eyes were blown wide and tearful. Her concern for his well being was very sweet and appreciated, despite the little meaning it held.

"I'll be fine, I suppose."

Her face hardened, all too ready to take a page out of Ryuji's book and slap all his bullshit right on his face, but deflated when Yusuke grabbed her arm and shook his head. She deflated in an instant, though her eyes were still smoldering.

"I guess."

"Well then, if that's settled," Sojiro interjected, his voice just a tad too loud to be natural. "How about you guys give me a hand restocking and putting this place up for work? We reopen tomorrow, and that coffee isn't gonna make itself, you know."

Well, he couldn't exactly say no when it had been his fault the cafè had been thrashed the way it was. Besides, he'd take anything to escape his own mind right now.

"Sure thing."

* * *

At least the physical labor had indeed been successful in its decoy, Akira grimaced as he finally flopped face first on his bed that night. Who knew ordering beans and browsing for all the machines a cafè needed could be so exhausting and time consuming? Honestly, sometimes he felt tackling Palaces and physically grappling with weird ass monsters was a walk in the park compared to managing this quaint hellhole of a place. And the annoying, entitled customers had yet to reappear. Akira definitely wasn't looking forward to that.

Customers… right, Akechi used to be a regular. He'd drop by later than most, just in time to catch Akira returning from whatever had taken up his entire afternoon. Akechi had claimed it was the best time to savor a fragrant cup of coffee without worrying about nosy - and noisy - fans who might recognize him, but it was hilariously clear he was doing it on purpose to match Akira's schedule. Akira hadn't bought it for a second.

But if it used to make him uncomfortable back then, creeped out even, now the memory filled him with a deep melancholy. Too many things went awry in the span of two days, too much had changed despite his best efforts. Too much had been lost.

The fact that he used to text Ryuji the nights he was feeling particularly down or unnerved - such as tonight - only made it so much worse.

He groaned weakly and rolled over to the side, just enough to slide his hand in his pocket and pull his phone out. He nearly cussed out loud when the screen flashed to life as he punched in the passcode, blinding him.

No new texts, of course, save for a couple of lighthearted messages on the group chat. Ryuji hadn't replied to any of them. Akira wondered whether he was reading it, or just had muted the notifications altogether.

He guessed it was already a miracle he hadn't left the group in the first place. Akira was willing to count that as a victory.

He opened the chat before he could think twice, clicking on the smiling Ryuji pointing fingerguns at him through the screen. The last text from him was from the day before they initiated their final incursion in Shido's Palace.

_> >It's showtime, man. We'll make him pay. No one messes with my pal and walks away on their own legs. I got ur back._

He smiled, although the corners of his eyes were starting to sting quite suspiciously. Typical Ryuji, one track minded and overflowing with enthusiasm.

Two days ago. It felt like a whole lifetime had passed since then.

Maybe he should try initiating the conversation, this time around. A quick text, something simple, just to say hello and break the ice again.

_> Hey :) You doing good?_

He grimaced at the mega lame attempt. Of course he wasn't _doing good_ , what kind of question was that? Glad to see he was still godawful at this, apparently. If only all those who kept piling up praises for his charm and presence could see him now, physically struggling with words that just wouldn't come out right.

No, it was useless. He didn't even know if Ryuji had his phone on, and he should probably refrain from putting too much pressure on him. He really should take his own advice more at heart.

Instead, he typed in a quick text for Ann and then let his hand drop back on the mattress with a heavy plopping sound.

Two days. What would he give to have a Persona who could turn back the hands of time, just enough to prevent this whole mess. As much as he hated having to resort to that dreadful guillotine, he was so desperate that he wasn't above offing a few Personas just to have a chance at making this right.

Speaking of…

"Hey, Morgana," he called towards the dark ball of fur sitting at the foot of the bed and currently very busy licking his face clean. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Oh, needing my flawless expertise now, are you?" the cat drawled gleefully, swelling with pride. Akira decided to let it pass this once, he needed the cat to stay in a good mood, and he wasn't feeling like having a row with him any time soon regardless. "Very well, if you insist, I shall provide."

"Alright," he straightened up to a sitting position, unable to sit still as long as the myriad of questions he had kept buzzing in his mind. Now, if only he could word his thoughts properly and stop fidgeting so much, goddamnit. "We know for a fact what happens when a Shadow ceases to exist."

Morgana nodded, his ears flattening against his scalp. "The death of a Shadow means the death of the person's most cherished desires. The sudden loss will destroy the spirit first, in the form of a mental shut down, and then… bring death to the person in question."

Akira knew Morgana too was thinking of the Okumura fiasco, and he himself couldn't quite suppress a shiver at the gruesome memory. He was certain none of them would be able to forget that scene any time soon.

"So, when a Shadow dies, it's physical owner follows suit fairly quickly. We know this. But what I was wondering is, what would happen if a Persona user was to…"

He couldn't quite conclude that line of thought. Morgana sighed.

"This is about Ryuji, isn't it? Rhetorical question, I know it is, you don't have to answer," Morgana cut Akira off when he tried to, well, not exactly defend himself - because Morgana was right, this was about Ryuji first thing first - but at least try to save some face. "Honestly, I don't really know. I never had it happen to anyone I know."

Akira had to bite back how Morgana didn't really seem to know any other Persona users outside of their group, so that point was moot.

"Still, the line between Shadow and Persona is blurred, sometimes not really distinguishable… a Persona is the representation of someone's true self, their ideals and nature. It takes nothing for those ideals to become corrupted and twisted, thus turning into a Shadow."

"Is that why when someone wakes their Persona they first turn into a Shadow?"

"Oh, so you _did_ notice, you slick dastard," Morgana grinned. "Indeed. The moment before the Persona awakens is the moment a person's true desires burn most intensely. From those desires and wishes, the power to make a stand and fulfill them blossoms and takes form. A Persona."

"So, Persona and Shadow are interconnected, you say." Akira's heart was beating a tad too fast, his breath was just a bit too shallow as his mind galloped ahead, analyzing Morgana's explanation from every angle, and each time loathing the picture it was drawing up. If what Morgana was saying was true, that could only mean-

"Yeah. However, I suppose we can safely assume the loss of a Persona doesn't necessarily result in death like a Shadow does. I mean, Ryuji's still alive, right? He lost all his memories of his time as a Persona user, but he's still alive and kicking."

That was true, but could they be really sure all would be fine, that a short memory was the entire price to pay for losing such a fundamental part of one's self? Perhaps it was Akira being his usual paranoid self, but something was off with this, though he couldn't pinpoint what.

His phone picked that exact moment to buzz, startling both Akira and cat, who nearly rolled off the bed. He grabbed the offending device - he _really_ needed to turn down the screen's luminosity, that beam of death was too painful - and checked the ID.

Obviously, it wasn't Ryuji. It wasn't even a number he knew, though he could swear he'd already seen it before. He picked up the call.

"Hello?"

For a couple of seconds all he heard was static, and a strange hiccuping noise, like a woman trying to rein in a sob.

"Kurusu Akira-kun?"

He and Morgana exchanged a panicked look.

"Who is it?"

A brief, nervewracking pause. And then-

"I'm Sakamoto Kanae. Ryuji's mother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yyeah that last convo was basically the headcanon I based this whole thing on. Does it make sense? Probably not lmao
> 
> Speaking of, I'm reconsidering stuff and subplots and I'll probably incorporate some elements of Royale in the end (lol I'm not even subtle at all, am I?). It will be vastly different from the way it unfolds in Royale though, if it is of any consolation XD
> 
> It's quite hilarious that the convo with Mrs Sakamoto was initially meant to be the pivotal moment of this chapter and then got shafted just because I was so done with all this talking. Gosh, why is the pace so slow wtf
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyy finally this chapter got done! I have mixed feelings about it, but overall I think I'm fairly satisfied with it. I think the parts where I lost some steam are pretty evident lol
> 
> Also, TW for suicide attempt due to Shiho coming up in the second half of the chapter! Please be careful!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Akira froze.

It was interesting, hilarious even, how he could face vastly more dangerous challenges, could endure being drugged and beaten to a pulp with no mercy, could withstand the risk of being held at gunpoint and shot right through the head with little no issue - except there _had been_ issues, he was just so damn good at sweeping them under the rug and fool everyone, himself included, that they never happened. But Arsene knew, he always knew - but the idea of facing his best friend’s mother had him scared shitless.

Because, honestly, how did you tell a loving mother you led her son to a dangerous mission, knowing fully well they might never come back to live the tale if something ever went wrong, and got him severely injured because you couldn’t find a way out and would have died miserably if said friend hadn’t done what he did.

It was easy for Akira to go and put his life on the line as much as he wanted; back at home, he was the quiet and weird kid who never had many friends and that turned out to be a delinquent who assaulted people for fun, the shame of the town. No one would ever glance at him twice, his parents already decided he’d be disowned the moment he was back from his probation period and came of age. No one would bat an eye if he died. And perhaps that was why the subsequent rush of adrenaline whenever a Shadow was just a bit stronger than expected ~~whenever a bullet flew too close to his face~~ felt so liberating, as though he was finally allowed to breathe again after he was kept underwater so long. Maybe that was why he felt the most alive when his body was closest to death, always dancing on the line, closer and closer every time, so close that he could feel Death’s bony fingers graze gently his wrist, ready to pull him to Him at Akira’s first misstep, the rusty taste of bloodied metal snake around his throat.

It was fun, believing they could do anything they put their mind to. That they were invincible, no matter the odds.

Except when they weren’t, and that was a responsibility he wasn’t sure he was ready for.

“Akira-kun? Are you there?”

Shoot, he spaced out too long. He cleared his throat.

“Y-yes. Good evening, Sakamoto-san. What do I owe the pleasure for this call?”

Static answered his inquiry, tension so thick he could cut it with a knife. It was obvious it wasn’t a call out of pleasure. Something was bothering her, and it was painfully clear what that was.

“Something is wrong with Ryuji.”

On his lap, Morgana whimpered in dismay. Akira merely let his eyes flutter shut. He had expected she’d waste no time to notice something was off with her son. No mother worth that title would.

“He won’t tell me what it is,” she went on, her voice growing more and more unsteady the longer she spoke. “But you do know, don’t you?”

She wasn’t even trying to rein in the accusation in her tone.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you play games with me, boy,” she snapped, and he flinched at the unexpected harshness. He thought he heard the slightest trace of a choked sob hidden beneath her animosity, and the subsequent sting he felt hurt far more than he was willing to admit. “Do you think I wouldn’t notice? You should hear when he talks about you, as though you could do no wrong ever. Akira here, Akira there… you are his everything, he’d do anything for you. A mother knows these things.”

There was a moment of silence as her rightful anger tapered off to mere exhaustion and the sniffles became more prevalent and for some reason hurt far more than her ire ever could.

He should probably stoke that rage. Slip on the cool and detached facade, lie through clenched teeth and simply say he didn’t care about Ryuji anymore, that he just toyed with him the whole time. That he had now grown bored and threw Ryuji away once he had run out of use.

A lie, of course, but a nasty breakup at the hands of a douchebag was far easier to explain and justify than an near fatal accident on a different plane of existence. It would shift the focus, it would relieve Ryuji from the burden of responsibility. If he managed to word it right, Akira would pass as the sole villain of the story, and no one would be the wiser.

That was what he should do. After all, what did he have to lose? He didn’t have much time left to stay. A few months, and he’d be a mere smudge in Ryuji’s memory, a faceless blur in the crowd. Might as well make it easier to move on.

It was the best course of action, and if he was truly selfless and altruistic as everyone wanted to believe he wouldn’t be hesitating as he was, struggling to breathe through the words that had lodged themselves at the back of his throat.

On the other end of the line, the older woman heaved a long, quivering sigh.

“Akira-kun, are you-”

Without his input, Akira's mind jumped ahead to fill the blanks, happily sifting through the countless options. Hopelessly head over heels? Sure thing. Irresponsible? That’s a given. A selfish prick who couldn’t let go, even when it was for the best? But of course.

“- a Phantom Thief?”

For the second time that night, Akira felt his blood freeze in his veins and all air left his lungs at once, as though the woman had just swung a bat right at the pit of his stomach, leaving breathless. On his lap, Morgana jumped to his feet and let out a loud, spitting hiss at Akira’s phone, his back arched and his fur all fluffed up.

Well, of all things, that was one he definitely was not expecting.

He pressed the phone tighter to his ear, his fingers soon growing whiteknuckled and numb from the sheer force of his grip.

“What?” he attempted to laugh, but it came out stilted, weak. He absently realized he was trembling. “Why would you say such a thing?”

Ryuji wouldn’t betray them like that, of that much Akira was certain. He might have forgotten all about the Phantom Thieves and their friendship and everything that had been in between, but Ryuji was still _Ryuji_ , goddamnit, and he was just as painfully loyal and trustworthy as ever. Regardless of all the close calls and mishaps of the past, the Ryuji he knew - the Ryuji he _loved_ \- would have never purposefully thrown them all under the bus like that.

...Wouldn’t he?

“I know my son,” she said, not amused, but not angry either. Just somber, tired. “I know he wasn't in a good place after… after that bastard teacher. I could do little to make him feel better, and the more I tried, the worse it seemed to get. He would yell, he would throw stuff around, he would just lock himself in his room and stare at the wall for hours on end.He'd refuse to study, to eat, even to take care of himself properly. I could only watch his light dim down, day after day."

Something in Akira's chest twisted painfully as her words painted a picture of a very different Ryuji than the one he'd known, one he only now got a glimpse of. A wounded Ryuji who had not healed just yet, licking and nursing a wound that perhaps would never really close. Akira had seen the scars Kamoshida had left, so different and yet so similar to his own, had accepted the ugly truth it carried within itself, but they were old and closed, and it was sometimes too easy to forget they were even there.

Now that the wound was so forcefully pulled open, he didn't know what to do. The Ryuji that resided in the woman's words was viscerally different from his own, the scenario she conjured too foreign and intimate. He felt like an intruder in her reminiscing.

And perhaps some of his inner turmoil filtered through his face despite his best efforts, for Morgana let out a sad meowing noise and curled himself to a ball on his lap, nuzzling his nose against Akira's shirt.

"And then," she said, with a laugh that held no real mirth. "You happened. I can't say I know what you did, how you did it, but you managed to pull him out of his slump. You gave him a new focus, a new purpose to live. As a mother, I could not be any happier to know he was doing better, that he had friends to hang out with, even if it meant I was not the coolest person in his life anymore, for you and the Phantom Thieves had stolen that spot the moment you appeared. The Phantom Thieves seemingly could do no wrong… just like you."

Akira didn't realize he had started to tear up midway through her speech until Morgana hissed and shook off his head as the tears hit his nose. He hastily wiped them off with the hem of his shirt.

"I… As flattered as I may be to hear all of this, this still doesn't really prove anything."

"No, it does not, but it doesn't really matter. I'm not going to snitch on you to the police. All I wish is to know my son is going to be alright. That's all I'm asking."

He almost wanted to laugh. _All_ she was asking, implying it was but a small request. Implying Akira was the holder of all truth, that he could answer any question, fix every problem just by willing it so, no biggie.

He could lie, of course. Pretend he knew what he was doing, what he was talking about. Assure her that everything would be fine. He was good at that; he had been doing that for a whole year straight. Fake it till you make it, and boy oh boy, was he master at that.

But once again, the words just couldn’t come out. They sat there, at the base of his tongue, heavy and thick and choking and squeezing, ready to dive out but not quite as brave to actually do so. He was secretly glad this awful conversation was taking place over the phone; he couldn’t imagine how even more uncomfortable and heavy it would be if he had to sustain her piercing gaze in person.

He rubbed his sweaty palm over his knee.

“I don’t know.”

The ugly truth that he had tried so hard to deny this whole time, the other voice within himself that Joker had pushed down and suffocated to death, time and time again, because there was no time to feel doubt, no chance to be anything less than perfect when everyone was looking up at him and one single misstep could spell ruin for them all.

But now that all was said and done, that all masks had fallen and there was no Shadow left to keep him grounded and give him a purpose, it reared its hideous head once again, and the more he tried to keep it down, slice its throat, the higher it rose out of his reach, the more the heads that popped out.

A quiet sniffle came from the other end of the line.

“I... see.”

He had disappointed her.

“I’m sorry.” he said on autopilot, knowing fully well it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough.

“You’re a good kid, Akira-kun.”

No, he wasn’t.

“You were the best thing that ever happened to Ryuji. I’m glad he met you.”

He should have tried harder, should have never let Ryuji go through with that crazy plan. _Why >/em> hadn’t he? Did he perhaps think the Metaverse would never dare go against his wishes, that it would bend backwards to accommodate his wants? Gods, the sheer _arrogance__.

“However,” her voice trembled, “as much as it pains me to do this, I must ask you to please keep your distance from now on.”

He couldn’t say he was surprised. He was actually more shocked this hadn’t come up a lot sooner.

“I can’t keep losing him, Akira-kun. He’s all I have left. My only reason to live. I have to protect him no matter what.”

He felt Morgana stiffen against him, his keen senses picking on the slight distortion Akira had already noticed. Love… he supposed even the desire to protect someone dear could eventually grow distorted, under the right circumstances. The idea was as intriguing as it was terrifying.

“I understand.” And oh, if he did.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Please, don’t be.”

“I-”

“It’s alright, Sakamoto-san. For real.”

She made a weird sound, half a sob and half a giggle, and even he managed to crack a mirthless smile. At least he made her laugh, somehow. It was some progress, at the very least.

“Thank you, Akira-kun. Have a good night.”

As if. “Thanks, you as well.”

She hung up, leaving Akira there, the bleeping sound of the now dead line drilling its way through his liquefied brain like a bullet pierced through soft flesh. Very, very slowly, he closed the call and lowered his hand. His phone dropped on the mattress with a soft plopping sound.

Well, he couldn’t say he wasn’t used to being ostracized and rejected, but this was just on a whole ‘nother level.

“Hey,” Morgana stepped off his lap and nuzzled against his arm, his ears hanging low in dejected sympathy. “Are you okay?”

Excellent question. He wasn’t really sure he knew the answer. It was becoming an increasingly familiar feeling, lately. He hated it. He shrugged.

“I guess I’ll be.”

“You’re not going to actually do that, are you?”

“Do what?”

Morgana huffed and swished his tail angrily back and forth. It was an adorable sight, and one that was generally worth riling the cat up for. “Don’t play dumb! You know what I mean! She just told you not to come anywhere near Ryuji! You can’t just take that lying down, now, can you?”

“Hmm.”

“ _Akira!_ ”

He understood Morgana’s point, and he couldn’t deny the cat’s indignance on his behalf was quite heartwarming. But this was different. This wasn’t simply standing their ground against yet another corrupt adult who exploited society for their own personal gain. This wasn’t a matter of rebelling against a flawed system that seemed dead set on crushing them and tearing it down bit by bit. This was a mother who loved her son a bit too much and wanted to keep him safe, no matter what. Try as he might, he couldn’t find the heart to fault her for that feeling, he probably would have done the same in her position.

He stood up suddenly and started rummaging in the drawer by the bed for something more comfortable to sleep in. A painful pang stabbed him when he saw the empty spot in the corner. Right, he still had to return Ryuji’s uniform. With how things turned during the day, it had completely slipped his mind, and he wasn’t sure he could muster up the strength to drop by the laundromat tonight. He supposed he could ask for a favor from Kawakami, but despite everything it still felt pretty weird to have his homeroom teacher take care of his chores, no matter how many times she claimed she didn’t mind. It just didn’t feel right.

He fished out a pair of old pants and a loose shirt and changed quickly, doing his best to ignore the cat on his bed currently busy glaring daggers at him.

“Akira!! You can’t be serious!”

“About what?” he said, his voice muffled by the shirt draped over his head. Did this thing shrink in the washing machine? He could swear it was a lot more comfortable last time.

“About staying away from Ryuji! You know, your _lover_ ,” Morgana shuddered in disgust. “I _really_ can’t see what you find in him that is so charming, but still, you can’t throw in the towel like that! That’s just… _not you_.”

Finally, Akira managed to push his head past the collar with a huff. “I’m not throwing in the towel.”

Morgana huffed in haughty disbelief. “Oh really? I don’t sense your usual rebel spirit flaring up, and this is the easiest mission you’ve ever come across.”

Well, that stung. He glared at the cat, who glared back just as fiercely, only to meow indignantly when Akira quickly threw his discarded sweater at him, covering him whole.

“There is no matter to rebel against this time, Mona,” he spoke over the angry hisses coming from the flailing lump of fur and wool on the bed. “She’s just looking out for her son. It is true that our actions have put him in danger; these are just the consequences I have to accept.”

Morgana hissed again, and slowly backed out of the sweater trap, his tail swinging madly now that he was properly pissed.

“He accepted it on his own accord! It’s not your fault if he’s an idiot and nearly got himself killed!!”

Akira frowned and flicked Morgana on the nose, deftly dodging the retaliating slash that followed suit. “Quiet, you. Said idiot nearly died to save our asses, yours included. You don’t get to insult him for free this time around.”

“But why do _you_ have to pay the price for it? It’s just not fair!”

Ugh, this was going nowhere real fast. He was exhausted, couldn’t wait to go to sleep, and he didn’t like how Morgana was needling him where it hurt the most, undermining all his determination to be a responsible person for once. He swept his arm and nearly threw Morgana off the bed before finally pulling away the covers and jumping in. He burrowed himself deeply into the blankets, trying to ignore the memory of Ryuji sleeping in this very same bed just the night before, like he had done in the past, as though nothing had changed.

At the end of the bed, Morgana hissed again.

“Fine, be that way. I guess I was wrong about you after all.”

Akira felt the bed grow lighter and a moment later he heard the soft thud of paws hitting the floorboards below. He raised his head just in time to see Morgana standing dangerously close to the topmost step of the stairs.

“Don’t go sleeping in the lobby. You heard Sojiro, the cafè is opening tomorrow morning.”

“I do whatever I feel like, unlike _someone_ I know,” Morgana drawled in disdain. Still, he instead opted to hop on the couch and curl in a ball on the firmest cushion the ancient thing had left, though not without throwing Akira one last scathing glare.

“Hmm, good night then.”

Morgana didn’t reply; he just settled himself comfortable and promptly turned to face the back of the couch, hiding his face from Akira’s sight.

It was going to be a looong night.

* * *

One thing that hadn’t changed was Ryuji’s deep hatred for mornings, and more specifically for school mornings. Seriously, what even was the point in waking up at the asscrack of dawn - cause 7 AM was just way too early. Waayyy too early - to listen to some old geezer rambling about useless stuff nobody cared about just to see a pretty number on their end of term report. He sure as hell didn’t see it.

He groaned and snoozed his alarm clock. Five more minutes never killed anybody.

But for real, what was even the point for him to go to school? He was never good at academics when he was at his best and actually tried to give a shit about grades, he didn’t even want to know how abysmal he had gotten now that he was the resident loser no one wanted anything to do with. He should just drop out already and just, who knows, waste his life in bed until he died of starvation or something like that. That sounded like a good plan, it fit his image.

But that would undoubtedly make mom sad. He wasn’t sure he was ready to see the disappointment on her face, even though she should have grown used to it by now. And then there was Akira…

Ugh, wrong line of thought. He didn’t even want to _think_ of that guy, he had enough of that whole angsty _thing_ inside every time he did. Like something struggling to reach from deep within his chest, growing closer to the surface every time Ryuji let his guard down. It was downright creepy.

A soft knock on his door.

“Ryuji, I have to go. I left your breakfast and lunch on the table, alright? Don’t forget it.”

His alarm clock picked that exact moment to beep again. Really, it seemed like the whole world was conspiring against him.

“Fine,” he grumbled, groggily pulling himself to a sitting position. “See ya later.”

“Later. And be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

There was a shuffling sound of short heels rushing past, then a key being twisted in the front door, and then the door being swung closed once more. He was alone.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, hissing when once again that awkward pain flared the moment the soles of his feet came in contact with the floor. He gritted his teeth and glared at his own shins.

“Quit it already, dammit.”

It was the stupidest thing, talking to parts of himself like they could hear and obey. He felt very foolish indeed, or rather, he would have, if he hadn’t had the distinct sensation his body didn’t belong to him in the first place. Like it was actively trying to give him the boot from within, like some sort of eject button like the ones he saw some airplanes had in the movies. It was weird, feeling like an unwelcome guest in his own skin.

There was a mirror in the corner of his room, next to a dresser on top of which all his trophies used to be displayed for all to see and that now were nowhere to be found, a single printed picture that seemed to have been taken during a field trip to the beach now taking their place. He ignored the picture as he stepped past it and stopped in front of the mirror.

Gods, he was lame. He was sickeningly pale, bordering on greenish, and deep purple circles rimmed his tired eyes after a night of crying in the pillow and dreamless sleeping. His hair was dry and frizzy, shooting up in every direction, the bleach blonde looking almost white in the flimsy light. A faint dark spot in the middle of his scalp told him he’d soon need to redye it.

It was awful. _He_ was awful. What was the point in going on like this.

“Oh, eff it.”

He moved to the bathroom to refresh himself quickly, and then headed for the kitchen, where he found a now stone cold bowl of miso soup waiting for him on the table and a small bento box right next to it. His stomach lurched at the sight, and he nearly vomited again when the first spoonful of soup hit his tongue. Yep, no eating today, down the drain it went; he couldn’t be assed to come up with a good excuse to mom for skipping meals, if she found the barely touched bowl in the fridge by the time she was back.

Slowly, utterly unbothered by the fact that he was going to be abysmally late if he kept going at this pace, he changed into his spare uniform, since his main was still at Akira’s place. It was not ironed and stiff at the shoulders from being worn so little, but who cared. If the world wanted to see him as a misfit, why would he bother correcting it.

He didn’t even need to think, his body did the rest on his own. His hands grabbed the bento and his bag, his legs carried him to the train station. It was bliss, not having to think, watching the world go about its way as he stood there on the side, as though looking through a tv screen, the one piece that could not find his place in the ever changing puzzle. Maybe he was a spare one, maybe he wasn’t really needed. Maybe he could even be thrown away, and no one would even notice.

“Hey, there you are.”

Ryuji whirled around, startled to hear the voice coming from so close to his personal space, and nearly got a mouthful of ash blonde hair for his effort.

“Takamaki?”

Takamaki frowned and pursed her lips. “You know I don’t like when you call me like that. It’s awfully stiff, you know.”

She did tell him that, in fact. But calling her by her first name was just too weird. As far as he knew, they barely had any contact since they left middle school, and even then it wasn’t like they were incredibly close. They were acquaintances at best, really.

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

She sighed and leaned against the metal wall of the train car. “Yeah, I know. It’s alright, I guess. It’ll take some time to get used to it though.”

“You tell me.” he nudged his head to point at the empty space surrounding him. The other passengers apparently would pick squish themselves together until they couldn’t breathe rather than coming too close to him. In fact, he and Takamaki were unusually comfortable in this safe bubble. At least they weren’t getting their lungs squashed.

“Yyyeah, I think that comes with the blonde.” Takamaki twirled the end of one of her humongous pigtails. “Talking from experience here.”

At least the ride was short, next was their stop. He just had to endure a few minutes, and they were at Aoyama-Itchome, stepping down the train onto the platform. Ryuji could swear he heard a massive, collective sigh of relief coming from the remaining passengers as he walked down the step.

He had thought Takamaki would just dump him and dart ahead with some friend the moment they were out of that tincan on wheels. He definitely was surprised when she kept sticking with him, even when he made a quick detour to buy himself a couple of cans of soda at the vending machine.

And hell, she even accepted when he offered her one. He didn’t even know she had such a sweet tooth, she definitely didn’t look the part at first sight.

“So,” he finally said as he sipped his soda, “Why are you here?”

“Going to school, duh.”

“I _know_ that. What I meant is why are you here _here_?”

She arched her eyebrows in an unimpressed manner and took a loud, gurgling sip of soda, only to choke slightly when the fizzy drink proved to be a tad too strong for her shenanigans.

“What,” she coughed weakly, “I can’t hang out with a friend? Are you suddenly too good for me, now?”

He snorted. “Yeah, _totally_. Couldn’t you see how everyone was so all over me back in the train? Couldn’t even breathe, man. No one resists the delinquent charm.”

His hand tightened over the half empty can. Takamaki’s eyebrows pinched upwards.

“I suppose you have a point.”

Silence fell after that, and Ryuji was surprised to see how comfortable it was, despite the obvious wide berth people were giving them as they hurried past and whispered maliciously behind their back. It was strange, he hadn’t been this at ease with Akira at all. It was like he was simply walking down the street with a sister he never had, and there was nothing more - and nothing less - to it.

Definitely weird, considering he had a hard time even speaking back when he was walking home with Akira yesterday. It was usually the contrary.

He followed her down a small and incredibly sketchy back alley she entered with way too much confidence for his tastes. It was narrow, and dark despite the early hour, and it frankly stunk a little bit of mold and old garbage cans. He shuddered.

“Gross, what even is this place? I thought this was a _fancy_ location, for snobs and whatever?”

“Doesn’t it remind you of anything?”

He coughed and waved his hand in front of his nose. “What, is this stink some special gourmet shit or something?”

She sighed, evidently disappointed in his response. “Never mind.”

At last, they emerged from the hellish alley… and they found themselves right in front of Shujin. Huh. And they were even right on time, according to Ryuji’s phone. He took back anything bad he said about the alley, it was awesome. A little smell was nothing compared to the possibility to sleep some more and still be on time.

He pocketed his phone. Takamaki watched him in silence, somewhat wistful.

“By the way, you didn’t really answer my question.”

She threw her now empty can in the nearest trash can with a quick, precise shot. Considering it was a tiny thing placed more than three feet away, he deemed it quite impressive. He never knew Takamaki had the aim of a basketball pro. 

“What is it?”

“Why are you here? With me, of all people? Surely you have better friends to spend time with?”

She frowned, something dangerous flashing in her eyes.

“You seem really obstinate in believing we can’t have been friends. I know you don’t remember of…” she lowered her voice all of a sudden, so quiet he had to lean in to hear her, and that wasn’t suspicious at all, noo not at all. “Of _us_ , but I thought, you know, we could start out slowly from the beginning again and maybe…”

“But what about your friends? What about Suzui? The two of you were just so close back then…”

He trailed off, some primordial, instinctual alarm bell blaring off at full power inside him, causing him to stop. Even he was not blind or stupid enough to see how impossibly still she had grown, how she had suddenly paled.

Shit, was she crying?!?

“I- shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

She didn’t give him time to apologize; she grabbed his wrist with a vice-like grip and physically dragged him away to a less crowded spot to the side. No one spared the two of them a single glance. It was like they didn’t even exist in the other student’s eyes. How did that indifference not bother Takamaki, not even a little bit?

“Shiho is at the hospital right now.”

And that revelation successfully drove his concerns about being invisible to others right out of the window.

“What? What happened? Is she alright?”

Takamaki seemed to have trouble keeping a handle on her emotions. Her head hung low, her fists were clenched tight at her sides, neatly manicured nails biting savagely in the flesh. He was tempted to grab her hands, force her to stop her from hurting herself. He wondered if his old self would have.

“She’s… recovering. Slowly.” she whispered. She lifted her head, and her eyes were _burning_ through the thin sheen of tears. “She tried to kill herself.”

The school bell rang, the other students hurried inside. Ryuji was too floored to care.

“ _What?_ ”

Surely there was a mistake here. He remembered Suzui. She was a quiet girl, but pretty cheerful once she got comfortable with people. She and Takamaki were always glued to the hip back then, to the point he saw Takamaki hang out at the school’s gym every time the volleyball team was there to practice.

That Suzui, trying to… No way in hell that could be real.

“Yeah. And it’s only thanks to _us_ ,” she threw him a very poignant look even he could not possibly misinterpret, “that the perpetrator got what he deserved. No one else was going to lift a single finger to help her, not even when she jumped off the roof in front of the whole school.”

He felt himself grow dangerously faint. She jabbed a finger in his chest with such force it was a miracle he didn’t stumble backwards and fall on his ass.

“Do you get it now?” she hissed viciously. “We may have broken a law or two, but it’s only because we legit had no other choice. We needed to fight for our own survival.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he backed down when she started getting really into his face, till the point his back soon hit the wall behind him.

“So don’t you dare, don’t you _dare_ ,” her voice was growing hysterical, but she was careful to keep a low pitch. It looked like it was taking every drop of self restraint she had, though that didn’t stop her from fisting her hand into Ryuji’s shirt, so tight he thought she would straight up claw the cheap cotton to shreds. “Don’t you dare call us a bunch of delinquents, cause we’re not. You are not.”

Her anger ebbed away, melting in a deep sadness he was taught since a young age he never should put a girl in, if he didn’t want to get in major trouble. Still, although he was indeed starting to fear for his life, he nonetheless felt a painful twinge in his chest.

“Oh,” he said lamely. “Thanks.”

She shrugged and angrily wiped her eyes with the cuffs of her sleeves. Even flushed crimson and bawling her eyes out, she was still gorgeous.

“Especially to Akira. He went through hell and back to make sure all of us got out of it unscathed. He doesn’t deserve this, on top of everything else.”

She threw him a half hearted glare that didn’t really hold any force, but it was enough for Ryuji to feel an uncomfortable heat bloom at the base of his neck and all the way up to his ears.

“So... you, uh, know…?”

She made a face. “That the two of you were together? Ha, of course. I was your wingman the whole damn time,” her voice was stern, but the small smile that followed suit was quite fond. “Took you long enough to sort your feelings out.”

Well, that sounded like him alright.

“Huh.”

Her eyes softened. “Listen, I know it’s still very early and none of this makes any sense to you, but you really are a good match. I’ve never seen you happier than when you spent time with him, you know. Even when the track team was still a thing.”

He stiffened, a sudden wave of cold that had nothing to do with the weather suddenly washed over him, leaving him trembling in its wake.

“Track was my life. My _whole life_ , do you understand?! The whole reason I even got to this shitty place!! And you tell me I should just brush it off for, for some random guy I haven’t known even for a full year?!”

Shit, he was starting to get riled up again, and this time he wasn’t squaring off against the ever so composed Akira or mom, who somehow knew how to defuse his temper before it got too explosive. This time he was with someone whose fuse was almost as short as his, and she was quickly reaching her own boiling point.

“ _Excuse me?!_ I never said that you have to be fine and dandy with that! Hell, I know you aren’t, and you have the right not to be, even Shiho’s volleyball career is pretty much over, you know!”

He was just about to ask what the hell her point about Suzui was when a sudden realization hit him squarely in the face.

 _Oh._ So that was why.

He silently pointed at her, too baffled by the situation to be able to articulate his thoughts properly, and she nodded slowly, her already flushed face somehow glowing even more brightly.

“What I’m trying to say,” she readjusted a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and he could easily tell how much it cost her to rein in her fiery attitude. “Is that, yeah, what happened sucks - sucks _a lot_ \- but maybe we can, y’know, start anew. Find something new, something better. Like, for starters, a relationship.”

“Let me guess,” he snarled, “With Akira.”

She had the nerve to throw him an angelic look, folding her hands behind her back and leaning forward while batting her eyelashes oh so cutely. Little she-devil in disguise. “Who else?”

Yeah, right, who else. It seemed like everything he had ever done lately was revolving around that guy, in some form or another. The thought pissed him off significantly less than he thought it would, for all that he was basically a stranger to Ryuji.

“Just give it a try. It doesn’t have to happen now _now_ , of course. But for real, I don’t think I could stand the sight of the two of you hopelessly pining for each other for another six months. It was dreadful.”

He spluttered. “I don’t _pine_ for no one, thank you very much.”

She threw him an impish grin, tapping the pocket in her uniform jacket where she kept her phone. “I got proof, if you need it. I still remember when you wrote to me at 1 in the morning asking if telling Akira he looked cute with his glasses on was a breach of the bro code or something.”

Ah, _shit_ , that did sound like something he might say.

“It was cute,” she laughed, “Even Akira thought so.”

“ _Traitor!_ ” He balked, absolutely appalled at her nerve. “What kind of crappy wingman sells someone off like that?!”

“One that likes seeing her friends be happy together for a change,” was her smooth reply. “So… will you give it a try? The two of you deserve more than this, you know it.”

She was pleading now, so honest that he was having a hard time keeping eye contact. It was easier to face the ground.

If he had to be honest with himself, he didn’t really know how to feel. It was all too much, all too quickly; he had never been particularly bright even at his best, and all of this was proving way too much for him to handle and process. His ruined future, his new found attraction towards guys, it was still too foreign. He didn’t belong in here.

But still, Ann’s words kept ringing in his ears. Starting over, aim for something better. Wasn’t it what his old coach always kept droning on and on during drills? Since when he’d become such a pushover, giving up at the first sign of strife?

Perhaps he should just resign himself. Should just accept the hand he was dealt and hoist a new flag up as he navigated new, uncharted waters.

A weird feeling surged up, coursed all over his body. The cheap fabric of his clothes were crackling and sticking unnaturally to his body. A booming sound exploded in his ears, like a rolling thunder, an exploding cannon shot.

Maybe… just maybe…

He barely heard Ann gasp and hiss out a curse. He raised his head.

Only to be met by a smug Ushimaru.

“Well, well. Quite late, are we?”

Maybe he was screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's still a bit early for Ryuji to get out of his funk in his timeline, but it's been seven chapters and two IRL months of crying Ryuji, and it's time to change pace lol Also, am I making Akira too Minato-levels of self sacrificing? Cause sometimes I think I am, but it's also a major weakness of mine so... sorry for the ooc XD
> 
> On a somewhat related note, someone help me get Burn My Dread out of my head, please TwT I have been unable to think of any other song for days on end TwT
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading, and take care!

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's not much of a beginning, I'm still quite rusty after being almost completely inactive for months. Hopefully the next chapters will be better. ~~yeah, sure thing, amirite~~
> 
> hope you enjoyed and take care!!


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